


The Trouble with Lust Magic

by blynnk



Series: Eros [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Angst and Humor, Biting, Bottom Clint Barton, Dirty Talk, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Light BDSM, Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, Marking, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Power Dynamics, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Hulk (Marvel), Protective Tony Stark, Rimming, Romance, Rough Sex, Seduction, Sex Toys, Spanking, Switch Tony Stark, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, Voyeurism, Wet Dream, switch peter parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-10-10 02:42:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 47,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20520617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blynnk/pseuds/blynnk
Summary: “Tony, I know you were with Peter last night,” Bruce stated, diving right in. “I can see he’s here now. Barely dressed. With Steve. You have two of them now. Two people affected by this damn spell, in your home and, assuming, your bed. We’re worried.”“We? The royal we? Hulk has feelings on the matter to share with the class?”“Less thought, more rage.”“Ah, the usual then. And the we?”“Everyone. Nat, Sam, Rhodey, Wanda, Pepper, Vision, Hill, Fury… shall I continue?”---------------------------------The god of primal sexual desire has cast a powerful spell on half of the Avengers. The afflicted lust after a specific person. There is emotional, psychological, and practical fallout.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first chapter, in which I discovered mortified!Peter is my favorite Peter. This begins right after the Part 1 ended. Didn't read it? Doesn't matter! There's enough explanation here for you to figure out what's going on.
> 
> Peter is 18. Clint isn't married.
> 
> CONTENT WARNINGS: Watersports are discussed (It wasn't planned but I couldn't talk them out of it). The guys are joking. Mostly. A prior experience of sexual assault (non-consensual violence during consensual sex) is also briefly mentioned.
> 
> New chapters will be posted twice weekly!

If anyone was smart enough to know fucking an eighteen-year-old, powered superhero would have consequences, it was Tony Stark. Yet, right from the start, he found himself as an active participant in scenarios he had not seen coming a mile away. Not that he’d been given any prep time for any of this nonsense.

The lightning-fast journey from Peter’s don’t-ever-talk-to-me-again email, to Steve’s sex-is-healthy-go-do-Peter pep talk left Tony with all sorts of whiplash. He didn’t even have helpful I’m-a-helpless-victim-of-a-powerful-lust-spell side effects to keep him going, like his two bed-partners did.

Tony, meanwhile, was just a forty-something, unpowered, exhausted, genius, billionaire Avenger. Though, the more time he spent around Steve Rogers and Peter Parker, the more idiotic Tony felt.

He woke to discover himself sandwiched between—and half-smothered by—both a solid, Dorito-shaped supersoldier, and a teenager clearly with a spider’s instinct to completely wrap and disable his prey before sucking the life out of it.

They were a trio of spoons arranged largest to smallest, with Peter somehow managing the fascinating feat of winding his arms and legs around all of Tony’s limbs while simultaneously facing away from him. He had a death-grip on the arm Tony had draped across Peter’s chest, and a hand wrapping the arm folded under the pillow beneath his head. Peter’s windy, slim legs claimed both of his. As a bonus, the weird grippers on Peter’s hands and feet had all activated and latched onto Tony’s skin.

But oh, that was not all.

There was also Steve.

Steve had taken possession of this whole tangled mess in very real ways, folding himself around as if shielding them from some urgently-anticipated explosive blast.

Honestly, Tony had no idea how he’d survived the night, let alone gotten as many hours of sleep as he had.

But a painfully swollen bladder could only be so patient.

“Hi, uh, team,” he muttered almost directly into the back of Peter’s head, his wavy brown hair tickling Tony’s nose in ways he also couldn’t escape with Steve pinning them together. “Morning. Great practice drill on the squish-Stark-to-death maneuver. My bladder yields. Please, um, please let me go before this turns into some kind of watersports thing because we haven’t had the kink talk yet and this is not the place I wanted to start.”

“You mean, you _haven’t_ fantasized about pissing all over Peter while he’s cuddled in your arms?” Steve whispered from immediately behind Tony’s right ear.

“You know… Nope, not even gonna give you the satisfaction of firing back on that one. Rogers, we’re supposed to be easing the boy into this gently. What the good fuck is he gonna think if we’re literally starting off with watersports humor. Peter, I promise we’re being sarcastic.”

The reply was a gentle snore.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, he’s a heavy sleeper,” Tony groaned with growing panic. Steve gently disengaged then propped up on an arm to smirk down at Tony, so helpfully. “I’m direly fucking serious, Rogers. He’s attached to me like I’m a ceiling and someone’s swatting at him with a broom. My dick is right against his ass.”

“You know, I kind of want to see it happen now,” Steve said thoughtfully. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“Would you help?! Help! That’s not help!”

Steve tried to pry Peter’s hand off of Tony’s arm but all that moved was Tony, the hand still attached.

“Sweet hell, I’m doomed,” Tony breathed. “Use your super strength!”

“I am!” Steve froze. “Okay, idea.”

“Awesome. What?”

“Panic. Go on.”

Tony couldn’t even speak he was so dumbfounded.

“Think about it—how awful you’d feel if you peed on him. He’d be so shocked and wonder what kind of twisted mess he’d gotten himself into in being with you and…”

Peter stirred, sighing a little, and murmured, “Mm… Mr. Stark’s in… in trouble, I’ve gotta…” Hazel eyes popped open. He realized where he was after the longest pause of Tony’s life, and promptly let go. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Mister… Tony. I…”

“No time, gotta go,” Tony panted, leaping from the bed and sprinting to the en suite.

Significantly lighter, some of his higher brain function restored, Tony wandered back in to the bedroom with eyes squinted in suspicion. Folding his arms over his chest, he took in the sight of Peter stretching lazily in a sunbeam cast by the wall of windows now that the tinting had been lifted by FRIDAY upon their collective awakening. Steve, shirtless, was doing an admirable job of trying not to enjoy the view of Peter’s stretching too much, while Peter did a much less admirable job of ogling Steve’s bare chest. Hey, who could blame him?

“Were you even asleep?” Tony asked Peter.

His voice sleep-thickened and rounded at the edges, Peter replied, “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“So you didn’t hear any of that?”

“Hear what? You took off really fast. Did… I guess you had to… Do you feel better now? Was I holding on too tight, I guess?”

Tony squinted more.

Steve cleared his throat and sat up, one arm braced on the knee of a bent leg as he gazed down at Peter’s wide-eyed innocent face. “You know, Peter, how important it is to get full consent first before engaging in any new sexual activity with your partner.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course, Mr. Rogers. Captain, I mean. That just sounded so weird. I swear I won’t call you Mr. Rogers anymore. Except that time. And especially when we’re in bed and talking about sex.”

Now Steve was squinting at him too.

“Do you want Tony to pee on you?”

Peter’s eyes widened more. “…I don’t _not _want Tony to pee on me? What?” Tony just gestured to Peter with an opened hand and stared right at Steve. “What? That was phrased like an invitation!”

“Were you asleep?” Steve asked Peter, straight out.

“Of course! Why?”

They kept squinting at him a little longer and then Tony had to give up.

“Official topic change. Coffee, showers, clothes, more coffee, breakfast, in that order, all will happen before talking about many kinds of things, including consent, and acceptable sleeping positions.”

Peter raised an eager hand high in the air.

“You don’t have to—” he sighed, “Yes, Peter?”

“The coffee happening before showers thing. Do you want me to go put on a pot, or…?”

“There’s a full coffee station in the bathroom,” Steve told him, running a hand over his face and back through his sleep-rumpled hair.

“Whoa.”

Since Tony and Peter were the, ahem, dirtiest, they got first dibs at the shower.

“Oh, you go on ahead, um, Tony,” Peter told him, hovering by the bathroom coffee station.

The shower was big enough for well more than the three of them, with multiple showerheads, but again, talking hadn’t happened, so group shower nakedness was not the best idea. Tony couldn’t even really handle the thought of just having Peter naked and wet in the shower with him, let alone both him and Steve at once. So he took his coffee into the shower with him and focused on the task at hand.

He soaped up and began to rinse off when the shower door opened and bare feet padded closer.

Opening his mouth to speak, the entirety of his eloquent reply was, “Hey,” because there was Peter, completely naked and hard, moving right up against him and into the water’s hot spray. His hands slid through the wet, dark hair over Tony’s chest, fingering the edges of the arc reactor as he stretched up on his toes to softly kiss Tony’s lips.

“Talking… we should…”

Peter snorted. “You sounded like Yoda,” he grinned, lightly stroking Tony’s cock. “So much hotter than Yoda, though.”

“God, _really _not used to this yet,” he moaned as Peter’s teeth scraped his jaw, completely irrational fear bubbling up that someone might catch them together. “Seriously though, talking…”

Peter kissed him quiet, then sank to his knees and started kitten-licking his dick.

For a few minutes, no words would form and Tony could only moan. The coffee hadn’t kicked in and he wasn’t nearly awake enough to process who and what was happening to him. The licking led to Peter’s lips stretching to wrap Tony’s shaft, making a tight seal and taking him back too far too easily as Tony gripped handfuls of Peter’s now-dripping, dark hair. Peter made eager yummy noises the whole time, which didn’t help Tony stop disassociating with his reality at all, and sucked like he was starving for it, which given the spell, made sense.

When Tony’s cries gained volume and a rough edge, he heard Steve at the cracked-open door, “Everything okay in there?”

“No, okay isn’t the word for this. He’s eating me alive.”

Peter pulled off with a wet, obscene pop, “I _think_ it’s called a blowjob.”

Tony could hear Steve’s smirk when he replied, “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Rogers.”

Peter sucked harder, hands cupping Tony’s ass, expression of total bliss on his sweet young face, and Tony yelled, “Fuck,” as his orgasm ripped through him.

The room was still spinning when Peter stood for a kiss, taking charge of it and tonguing him, tasting like come. Tony briefly lost his mind. He shoved Peter against the tile wall, water running all over them, and jacked Peter’s dark, straining erection as hard as he could. Tony kept the kiss deep and dirty. Peter whimpered beautifully the whole time and came fast, shooting thick over Tony’s hand. Before the water could wash it away, Tony pushed his index finger through Peter’s lips parted on gasps, watching him suck the taste of himself from it. His pupils were blown wide, face flushed, lips dark and a little swollen.

Tony could only breathe, “Jesus,” before sucking Peter’s come from his middle finger and then kissing him again.

The bizarro world Tony now lived in kept happening. Peter, smiley and pink at the ears, was naked in his bathroom and Steve waited just outside. Tony walked out naked, Peter in a towel, to find clothes. Steve purposefully averted his gaze and excused himself as he slipped into the bathroom to take his turn.

Wondering if he was supposed to follow Steve in to balance things out, Tony once more realized the value of talking this all out. Once he’d found some underwear, a black t-shirt and jeans, he went out to start breakfast.

Breakfast burritos were easy enough. Throwing eggs, salsa, diced sausage and some fresh, chopped vegetables in a skillet, mixing it together, he checked his messages with his other hand to see what he’d missed while in the land of everlasting sex.

“You know how to cook?” Peter asked, wearing obscenely low-slung jeans and apparently nothing else. He stayed clear of the range but close enough to be able to touch Tony if he wanted.

“So we’re pretending you haven’t been peeking in my windows since winter? Yes, I can cook.”

“But, you’re Tony Stark. Don’t you have people who can do that, or…”

“Robots, Peter. I have robots. I don’t trust anyone who can’t eat food to cook it for me.” He turned down the heat and said, “Should be some tortillas in the pantry on the third shelf. Grab ‘em for me?”

They had plates set out and Peter filled burritos while Tony crisped the shells of the finished ones in the skillet when Steve walked out, hair damp but combed, clothes only slightly less painted-on than usual.

“Smells amazing,” he grinned, pulling Tony into a light kiss.

Enfolded by the scent of Steve’s cologne, Tony wrapped a hand around the side of Steve’s neck and hummed, “Mm, likewise. You should’ve come in.”

Steve kissed him again. “I’ll make more coffee.”

When he stepped away to do it, Tony watched him glance quickly over Peter’s body and give him a small smile of greeting. Peter, wide-eyed and keyed up, handed Tony the last burrito and got a little flustered, moving restlessly.

They’d just brought the plates and mugs over to the table when the elevator _binged_. Bruce Banner stepped out.

“Hey, afternoon everyone,” he called.

Tony glanced at the clock. Yeah, shit. It was three o’clock.

“Tony, you got a minute? Alone?”

“Man, come on, the burritos,” Tony lamented, gesturing to them.

“It’ll be a quick minute. Promise.”

“I’ll put yours back on the skillet to keep ‘em warm, okay?” Steve offered, standing.

Tony let Bruce drag him down the hall and into a room. The door closed behind them.

“I know you were with Peter last night,” Bruce stated, diving right in. “I can see he’s here now. Barely dressed. With Steve. You have two of them now. Two people affected by this damn spell, in your home and, assuming, your bed. We’re worried.”

“We? The royal we? Hulk has feelings on the matter to share with the class?”

“Less thought, more rage.”

“Ah, the usual then. And the we?”

“Everyone. Nat, Sam, Rhodey, Wanda, Pepper, Vision, Hill, Fury… shall I continue?”

“They _all know_ I had sex with Peter? And you’ve _all _talked about this together?”

“They asked me to be the one to talk to you. Since I’m still technically in charge of this thing. And for some godforsaken reason thought you might actually listen to me.”

“None of you people get a say in when or how I have sex with Peter.”

“Tony, I know you. I know your lifestyle. Still, how often did you have sex before Eros?” He waited, obviously and correctly not expecting an actual answer. “And how often have you been having sex after Eros? Just with Steve? How many times per day?” He waited again, but really didn’t need to.

Tony sighed and turned his back, hands on his hips.

“At least Clint just has one of Bucky to handle,” Bruce told him. “I know the spell has eased off a little, but… Tony. You can’t survive this. You can’t expect to handle both of them and still have energy left for your company and for the team. Not at your age. Not without powers or magic. I’m sorry. I know you care about them. You’re the most selfless person I know, even if you’d never admit it. I know you’d let them exhaust you until you broke or made a critical mistake and someone got hurt.”

He didn’t think about how tired he’d been the night before, or that morning, or the shower, or any of it. He didn’t.

“You have to encourage them to get what they need from each other, so you can take breaks. Long breaks. Away. Frequently. In your workshop. Alone. Or, better yet, in other countries entirely. We’ll have a meeting tomorrow to talk about the rest.”

“Of course there’s more,” Tony sighed. He almost didn’t say the other thing, but it was Bruce, and Tony honestly didn’t know who else he’d talk to about it anyway. “I don’t even know if they _want_ to do… that. Together. Without me.”

“Convince them. For your sake.” Bruce let it breathe. “I’ll go. But it’s really not putting me at ease that you’re not even fighting me on this at all.”

“I’m not a moron,” Tony said defensively. At the raw concern on Bruce’s face, Tony added, “I’m fine. It’ll be fine. I’ll handle it. It’s not like you’re suggesting something I’m against at all.”

Bruce clapped him on the shoulder, gave him one more slightly terrified look, then left.

Tony stayed in the room to groan and hide one more decadent moment longer.

When he walked out, Steve was sliding the burritos back on the plate. As soon as they made eye contact, Tony knew.

He’d heard the whole thing.

Because of course he had.

Peter looked at them looking at each other, not yet privy to their telepathic conversation, developed after half a year of living together and getting to know each other far, far too well. Tony was sure Peter’d get there eventually, with time, once they all got more familiar with each other. The kid did seem prickled, sensing the tension.

They sat and Steve let Tony take a few bites.

“He’s right, you know. _They’re_ right.”

Tony sighed.

Peter glanced between them. Young as he was, after what they’d done together Tony could no longer think of him as a kid, or incapable in any sense. But he knew Steve wasn’t there yet. Hadn’t experienced or witnessed it. To him, Peter was still a kid.

“Right about what?” Peter asked, frozen with the last few bites of his burrito halfway to his mouth.

“Finish eating and then we’ll get into it,” Tony told him. “I’m starving.”

Steve swallowed his bite and said, “I did offer last night to set Peter up in the guest room. He was pretty set on staying together.”

“Because I am. Set. If you’re both, you know, okay with it? With me being there.”

“I’m fine with it. Tony?”

“I’m fine with it as long as I’m able to breathe and move and go take a leak.”

“Sorry. I think talking about it will help,” Peter admitted, blushing and dropping his gaze. “I was still nervous. Am nervous, I guess. I get clingy when I can’t relax.”

“If it happens again,” Tony began.

“You can pee on me if you have to,” Peter told him.

Tony just stared, then glanced at Steve, both his eyebrows raised way up high. “Well, okay then.”

“What’s a good way to wake you up?” Steve asked. “You were out cold.”

“And if anyone knows anything about being out _cold_,” Tony murmured into his coffee, getting him a satisfyingly disapproving glance from Steve.

“Noise doesn’t wake me up,” Peter explained. “Aunt May always had to come in and nudge me to get me up for school cause I’d sleep through alarms. Too used to thin walls in crappy apartments, I guess. But I’m not, um, too used to being touched while sleeping. Also kind of ticklish…”

“Touching and tickling,” Steve nodded solemnly, mission clearly accepted. “Got it.”

Tony finished the last bite of his food, trying to make it last as long as possible.

“So,” Steve said after a breath, hands folded on the table in front of him. He looked right at Peter. “Peter, it seems the Avengers all collectively think we need to start having a lot of sex.”

Tony choked, coughing up a bit of egg and trying to wash the rest down with coffee. “Way to ease into it, Rogers.” He waited for the rest of his coughing fit to pass, then added, “But you’re not wrong.”

Peter looked like his chair had suddenly turned to ice. “What? We?! As in… we? Me and…”

“Steve. Yeah,” Tony agreed.

Hands covering the entirety of his face, Peter spoke against his palms, “The Avengers?! Think what?!”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“So, no super hearing then,” he said conversationally. “At least there’s that. Small blessings.”

“But… _What_?!”

“Just… give it a minute,” Tony urged when Steve opened his mouth to speak. “I guess the lust spell doesn’t allow him to bypass logic on this one. Shame.” He drank some coffee. “Kid. Pete. Last night you literally confessed to both of us that you’d fantasized about Steve.”

“Indirectly! To you! Not to _the Avengers_!”

“All three of us are Avengers, too,” Steve observed. “Something that seriously impacts the wellbeing of three team members is worth the concern of everyone, even if it is a private matter.”

“They had some sort of meeting about it and everything. The whole team.”

“Not helping,” Steve groaned when Peter sank out of his chair and went to hide under the table instead, lamenting repeatedly, “Oh my god.”

“They’re just worried about Tony. About making sure we don’t… wear him out.”

From under the table came a muffled, “Oh my _god_.”

“This. This is what happens when our third is a teenager,” Tony told Steve.

Tony and Steve leisurely finished their coffee. Steve brought the carafe over to refresh their mugs. Peter eventually reclaimed his seat, but his face was completely red, he wouldn’t look at either of them, and his lips pressed tightly together. He folded his hands in front of his mouth, leaned forward with elbows on the tabletop, and seemed to try to implode.

“This is actually fascinating,” Tony observed. “You have a total blindspot when it comes to me, but when it’s _not_ me, you’re mortified. Magic is weird.”

Peter mumbled something even Steve couldn’t hear.

“I’m sorry, what?” Steve asked, leaning in.

He repeated it, barely louder.

“Well, you are, aren’t you? You don’t agree?”

“Will you please just tell me…” Tony sighed.

“You called him our third.”

“Oh. Well. Yeah. Ooh, our first team vote. All agreed?”

Tony and Steve raised their hands. Peter somehow turned redder; folding over so his whole face was hidden against his arm lying on the tabletop, then raised his hand too.

“Great. Next?”

“Well, I think we need to talk about this,” Steve said with a furrowed brow. “Peter, you’re obviously struggling with the idea of this, and me in particular—”

He lifted his face—barely—and extended both hands, supplicating, palms out, “No, I’m not struggling,” he protested in a small voice.

“You are. It’s fine,” Tony commented.

“No, I swear I’m— Okay maybe a little, but I can barely accept that Tony’s okay with this at all, suddenly, and now,” he clenched his jaw and gestured wildly at Steve, without looking anywhere near him.

“Are you attracted to Steve?”

Peter dropped both hands to the table with a loud _smack_, actually sat upright and gave Tony the funniest are-you-shitting-me-what-a-stupid-question look he’d ever seen.

“So that’s a yes?”

Steve rolled his eyes.

Peter shot Tony a look of violent warning that was equally adorable.

“Okay, but we need you to actually say the word. That’s how it works.”

Peter collapsed with his face against his hands, letting out a long, pained groan. “Yes.”

“Thank you. Steve, are you attracted to Peter?”

“Okay, well, see,” Steve started, stammering slightly, which was interesting enough that Tony sat forward and turned completely toward him, chin in hand. “I know,” he prefaced to Tony, “it makes me sound hypocritical, but I’m over _eighty years_ older than you, Peter. And you’re a beautiful person. Physically, you’re just…” words failed him here, and Tony’s cat-like grin grew. “But I’m just not used to thinking of you in a sexual kind of manner, so—”

This is where Tony cut in with, “You know, because of the healing factor, his ass will _always _be tight as a virgin’s? Ask me how I know. Go on. Oh, and he likes it rough. Did I mention that? And being marked. Being held down to take a brutal pounding. You got a nice preview earlier this morning of the _spectacular _little begging noises he makes. Oh, and the skill at cocksucking? You each have very different techniques, I will admit, but both equally phenomenal. And have I mentioned how much fun it is to eat him out? It was his first time last night, and with his powers he’s almost_ painfully_ sensitive to stimulation. But I don’t suppose you’d be at _all_ interested in any of _that_.”

Steve glared at him for just a second, tapping his mug restlessly against the table. Oh yeah, he was imagining it. Tony’s latest discovery: how fun it was to watch Steve fantasize about fucking Peter breathless with his huge, superpowered cock.

He muttered, “Yes, I’m attracted to Peter.”

“Awesome. Next?”

Steve turned. “Peter? Peter, look at me. Please?” Peter peeked through his fingers a little. Brave lad. “We don’t have to rush this, okay? Whatever speed you’re comfortable with is fine with me. Take time to think about it and get used to it. You can change your mind at any time. No one’s ever going to make you do anything you don’t want.”

Peter let out a hysterical laugh that was quickly bitten off.

“What?”

Nothing.

“What?”

Softly, Peter addressed the ceiling, “What if I _do_ want it, but the whole idea is so… so…_ so_…” he did a splayed motion with his fingers, as if that explained it perfectly.

“Like I said,” Steve continued, pretending to understand, Tony assumed, “we have time. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I have a suggestion,” Tony piped up.

“Oh no,” Peter groaned.

“Smartass. I think we need to make it less weird, slowly include each other. Steve, there’s a reason I asked you to come into the bathroom earlier. I think you need to watch us. Me and Peter. Together. And Peter, you need to watch me and Steve. We each have a certain dynamic. Before we do anything together as the three of us, everyone needs to see what they’re, uh, getting into. So to speak. Because, for instance, Steve tends to fuck me like he’s furious with me about something, which is awesome, but might alarm Peter to witness. Rogers, you’re blushing and I love it. But not as much as I love you.”

“Whoa. Now he’s _really_ blushing,” Peter gaped.

Steve reached, lunged, pulled Tony’s chair over and tipped it back to give him a hungry kiss. “Love you too.”

“Aww,” Peter cooed.

“Look honey, our audience approves,” Tony smirked. He glanced over. “Hey, millennial, no phones! You delete that right now, young man.”

“No way,” Peter chuckled, holding up the gadget to continue taking video.

“If you even _think_ of posting that or sending it to _anyone_ but me or Steve, I’ll take video of my own. And I will be_ creative_ about what I do with it.”

“Fine,” Peter sighed, sliding his phone back in his pocket.

“Our first rule,” Steve smiled. “No phones or video.”

“Without prior agreement,” Tony clarified.

They agreed. Steve let Tony’s chair return all its legs to the floor.

“Okay, consent issues. Steve, you’re a top. I’m up for anything. Peter?”

“Yeah, um, same I guess.”

“What’s off-limits? Anything we should all know? For instance, I know Steve will lose his mind if knives, guns, or drugs are involved at all. For me, I honestly don’t care as long as anything that happens is agreed upon first by anyone involved. Peter? Thoughts?”

He kind of shrugged, fidgeting a little. He was facing Tony directly, relegating Steve to his peripheral vision. “I trust you guys.”

“To do…”

“Whatever.”

“Bondage? Spanking? Toys? Denial?”

“Promise?”

Speechless, Tony could only stare at him. Steve swore under his breath, “Fuck.”

“Okay, Pete, I’m begging you here. Please tell me there’s something off-limits for you. Just so I can sleep at night.”

He played with his coffee mug, only giving the briefest little glances up at each of them. Each time he glanced at Steve he visibly got more freaked out. The comfort factor wasn’t there yet for him with Steve, but it was important they get this all out in the air together, nevertheless.

“Okay, well, I guess…” he held his head in his hands, elbows resting on the table, his hands conveniently acting like blinders to help him ignore the sexy, blond centenarian to his immediate left who just as eagerly awaited the answer. “Spanking’s okay. I, um, I like it. But I don’t like to be hit. That’s not a turn-on for me.”

“Thank god,” Tony breathed.

“Wait,” Steve frowned, “You’ve been spanked?”

Peter nodded.

“And you’ve been hit? During sex?”

A sickening weight fell into the pit of Tony’s stomach, even before he saw the next little nod, which came with a pained sigh.

“Hit like how?” Steve pressed. “Like a slap, or a punch? Or with a belt, or a strap?”

Peter groaned, hands over his face. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Healing factor. Super strength, remember?” he assured them. “I made him stop. I just know I don’t like it now, and you asked, so…”

“Hey. Kid,” Tony said gently. “You’re officially in a relationship with both Iron Man and Captain America. You just told us someone hit you during sex and you had to make them stop.” He watched Peter run his hand through his hair, curling in on himself and looking away. “You said you trust us. Trust us with this.”

“But it doesn’t matter,” he explained in little more than a whisper. “It was like a whole year ago. He was my age. I didn’t even mind at first. He’d just slap me a little.”

“Where?” Steve asked. “Your face?”

“Yeah.”

“During sex?”

“Before. Before oral. Like he was trying to act tough.”

“But then he did more?”

“You’re gonna be mad.”

“Not at you.”

“I told you, I made him stop.”

“Stop what?”

“He… he used his belt.”

“During?”

“When he was inside me. Mostly across my back, but he got my neck and head a few times. I asked him to stop, but he just said I was strong enough to take it. I was crying so I couldn’t see well but I think I punched him in the mouth. Like I said, it was a while ago. I never saw him again. It’s not a big deal. It’s just something that happened. I mean, I get hit all the time when I’m, um, working. You know, obviously. It’s just not a turn on. It makes me mad. He made me mad, like, we were supposed to be having fun and getting off, not smacking each other with belts. I don’t know if this is making sense. I don’t want to scare you guys off or anything, like you have to be gentle with me, cause you don’t. I mean, Tony knows… god this is so embarrassing… that I fantasize about him being rough with me all the time. There’s just a line there, I guess, between hot and ‘hey don’t punch me when we’re screwing.’ Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded. “It does. Tony and I have used color-coded safe words before. Green, yellow, red, to communicate where we are with things in the moment.”

“That, um, that sounds good. That would help.”

They were actually looking at each other directly, which was some major progress, in Tony’s opinion. Peter’s need to defend himself outweighed his humiliation. A good thing in any circumstance.

“Who was this guy?”

“Oh,” Peter laughed, “yeah, there’s no way I’m telling you that.”

“Peter.”

“Nope.”

“He could be hitting other people. That was sexual assault.”

“No way. He’s an idiot but he’s not worth siccing the Avengers on him.”

Steve remained displeased, so Tony muttered, “Let it go for now.”

“Do you need to talk to someone about this? Like a therapist?”

“Oh, Tony hooked me up with someone a few months ago. I go pretty regularly. It’s all good.”

Their body language spoke loudly, Peter was all curled up and twisted in on himself in the chair, while Steve kept leaning over more. Tony knew they both needed to get this out of their systems, though. Peter should know what he’d gotten into in agreeing to be in a triad with Mr. Overprotective himself, Steve Rogers. If the kid thought Tony was a lot, well, he had no idea what was coming now. And if they didn’t let Steve do the whole Captain America thing, well, there was no point in doing any of this, was there?

Tony kept silent because there was a whole side of this they hadn’t even gotten to yet. One glance from Steve told him that was next.

Tony gave a little nod to give his blessing.

“Would it upset you if I ever hit Tony, in a completely consensual way? Like, with a belt or a whip?”

Yeah, Tony didn’t love this part of the ‘talk.’ Suddenly his fingernails were _incredibly_ fascinating.

“Be honest with us,” Steve urged.

Peter squirmed, biting at his lip. “Yeah. It would, I think. Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. Your feelings matter and we’ll honor those, always. Right, Tony?”

“Yep.”

Peter looked at him then, and suddenly crawling under the table to hide like the kid had was a much more tempting idea.

“Wait. _Have you?_ Hit him?”

Ah, the falling of the idols. So it began.

Steve managed to still look exponentially more confident than Tony felt, but that was their dynamic, after all. He wasn’t surprised.

“I have. A few times. Not often. It was when we were both dealing with a lot and needed a particular kind of release. It was controlled. Safe. We talked about it all before we did anything.” He saw the questions building in the kid’s worried face, so he took a breath and continued. “I tied him up and used a flogger. Mostly across the thighs but there were some middle-back lashes too. We had sex, um, during. After, I made sure to look after him. FRIDAY monitored his vital signs the whole time.”

Tony mentally transported back a few months to when Peter had broken into his bedroom and tried to save him from Steve. Peter’s expression now was identical.

“Why would you enjoy whipping him like that if you love him?” Peter asked in a small voice.

Tony’s gaze went right to the liquor cabinet. Hey, it was after three in the afternoon, even if they had woken up late.

Steve noticed. “No,” he said simply to Tony, before turning back to Peter.

“Kid, I wanted him to,” Tony sighed.

“I’m not a kid!”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Sometimes,” Steve began, “pain and pleasure get mixed up. Same reason why you like it rough, isn’t it? Sometimes feeling things helps us with things we can’t feel or touch. Tony trusts me to give him what he needs—whatever it is—and I enjoy that he does. When he and I are together, I may not be gentle, but I’m _always_ careful. That doesn’t mean I can’t be gentle with you or that I wouldn’t want that.”

Peter looked upset, his eyes getting red and teary.

Hand over his mouth, Steve looked at Tony. The whole arrangement between them felt so shaky, a calm breeze might have blown it apart forever.

“Pete,” Tony said, forcefully as he could, “Steve adds control and intensity to my life. It works for us. It balances. I get to let go and he gets to hold on. Now, adding you to the mix… You get a say, but you also need to understand my needs, and Steve’s, aren’t going to change. We can change how we meet them, so you’re comfortable, but if this is gonna work as more than just me simply giving you what you need—if you want to be _in this_ with Steve and I as an equal partner—you’re gonna have to learn to trust us to know what we can handle. Because I can handle a lot.”

Peter’s head fell back on his shoulders as he blew out a breath.

“You’re gonna have to let us go out there, constantly, to risk our lives and try and protect the world from all sorts of crazy shit. If you can handle that, I _know_ you can handle trusting us to have some kinky sex now and then. Right?”

Mouth twisted up on one side, clouds over his hazel eyes, Peter glanced between them uncertainly. “Yeah, okay. You’ve got a point. I wanna give it a try. I have to.”

Steve said, “We’ll test the waters with some less-extreme things and see how you feel when you’re there with us. I want you to trust me, with him and with you.”

Biting nervously at his fingernails, Peter nodded.

Well, it was something, at least.


	2. Chapter 2

**THREE MONTHS EARLIER**

They had held out through three whole months of ‘dates’ hastily squeezed into their crazy schedules, whenever one or both of them weren’t out on missions, or Clint wasn’t recovering from said missions. Bucky kept offering to come by, day or middle of the night, with text messages that just read, ‘_can I see you?_’ Clint kept struggling internally with the reality of his predicament, dealing with magical lust for Bucky that it seemed would never have an expiration date. But it was ridiculous to have Bucky lingering metaphorically or actually with his sad lonely puppy eyes, hoping for scraps of affection.

So Clint asked him to move in.

He knew Bucky felt uncomfortable asking Clint to move in with him, since he felt Clint was already giving up a lot.

His ass. He was giving up his ass. Among other things.

When Clint asked, Bucky pretended—adorably—to not be pleased. He tried and failed to hide his smile. His eyes crinkled at the edges and twinkled with rare pure joy. He promised to not take up much space or be a pain.

But then it happened. They started living together.

Clint had never lived with anyone he was fucking. And it wasn’t even just about sex anymore—though the sex was a really, really important part. The toughest part was how weird and soft he got around Bucky, like the guy had constant access to secret inner parts of Clint that no one else knew existed. For instance, he somehow knew without ever being told whenever Clint was mentally not holding up well, and would gather Clint up against him in the world’s most gentle hugs, brushing fingertips through Clint’s hair and peppering him with kisses. He’d seen, felt, and caused Clint to break apart into tiny pieces, countless times. Begging and submissive had become Clint’s default state of being around him.

Bucky was a slightly better and more willing cook than him, and would tie his hair up in a little man-bun when he was at the stove. It never failed to completely destroy Clint, which Bucky liked, so that started happening regularly. They began brushing their teeth together. Bucky made sure Clint’s gear was well-maintained and organized.

It was so fucking domestic.

They were busy. Clint liked busy. Busy allowed him to avoid a lot of things.

Until the night they weren’t busy at all.

Bucky ordered in Chinese and put on music. Clint made some Jack and Cokes and regaled Bucky with tales of his latest attempts to dodge Natasha—who had some pointed opinions about him and Bucky—and Bruce, who was, well, Bruce. And Hulk. He was also Hulk. Who also had some pointed opinions about him and Bucky. To say the least.

After eating, Clint tried and failed to offer to handle clean-up, then also failed to excuse himself to do… something… someplace else.

“Sit with me,” Bucky asked, in this quiet, sweetly hopeful way.

“You know, it’s really unfair of you to ask me to do anything when you look like that.”

“Like what?”

Clint whimpered and just gestured at all of him. “With the sad puppy eyes and—”

“Excuse me?” Bucky laughed, failing not to smile.

“And the little twisty hair thing,” Clint made a swirling motion with his finger at the back of his head, “and your shirt… you know I love this shirt. It’s like you want me to touch you or something. You need shirts that are less silky soft and, like, covered in thorns.”

Bucky licked his lips, which, you know, _not helping_, and planted his hands on his hips, shifting his stance. “I do _not_ have sad puppy eyes.”

“Yeah, try and argue that one. Try.”

Tilting his head, Bucky considered him thoughtfully, which was never a good sign. He bit his lip and stepped forward. Honestly, that’s all it took for Clint feeble resistance to crumble. “Why do you think you can resist me?”

Clint let out a wild, full laugh. “God, fucked if I know.” He started to caress Bucky’s amazing chest in its amazing shirt and all was right with the world again.

Bucky leaned in and breathed over his lips, hand cupping his cheek, “Sit with me.”

Clint shivered and closed the distance to touch their lips together, frowning. He opened for Bucky and waited, breathing harder, for the half-second it took before Bucky licked inside and sucked on Clint’s tongue, angling his head more sharply and taking absolutely fucking everything he wanted with no resistance from Clint at all.

Eventually, Bucky let him break away. Clint was tingling, mentally and emotionally sunken down into the comfortable place within himself where he knew who he belonged to and why. Bucky’s lips moved by his ear, “You’re safe here. I’ll listen. I won’t push.”

Nuzzling his neck, Clint moaned.

“I wish you were less perceptive.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, fuck you too, Barnes,” he sighed, letting Bucky pull him into the best hug ever.

Pulled by the hand to the couch, Clint ended up lying back on Bucky’s chest, between his legs, his head resting back on Bucky’s shoulder as they stretched out lengthwise on the couch, facing the windows. The purple haze of dusk had fallen and the countless sparkling lights of the city grew brighter by the minute.

They’d left a light on by the table next to the kitchen where they’d eaten dinner, but the living room was growing darker around them. Had Bucky left it dark on purpose? It was hard to tell how much of what he did was intentional. The more they were around each other in close quarters, the more time Clint spent thinking about that. There was such a carefulness to Bucky. Where he moved, why and when; what he said and what he held back; where he touched and for what purpose—sometimes it all seemed like a massive tactical scheme he was acting out with Clint as his target. Nothing ever felt off the cuff or accidental. Soft Bucky was just as careful if not more than when he was out on a mission.

What did it mean? Was Bucky not comfortable, or was this his version of comfortable?

If Clint was being made the subject of a complicated, intentional plot, what was the goal? Bucky already had Clint offering up anything sexual he could possibly want, whenever he wanted. What more could there be?

Out of the darkness by his right ear, he heard, “If you ever have second thoughts about me living here, you need to tell me. I won’t be mad.”

“What? No! Why, have I made you think I…?”

“No, but I know this is a lot for you. I can’t tell if it makes it worse to have me here all the time.”

Yet again, Clint felt like Bucky was, like, fourteen steps ahead of him and he needed to catch up. But he didn’t know how to.

“Can we rewind, like all the way back and start at the beginning?” Clint asked.

“If you want. Sure.”

Bucky’s hand moved to overlap Clint’s chest, his thumb brushing in a gentle arc over his heart. Clint’s hands rested on Bucky’s thighs, since they were right there and they were one of his favorite things in the whole world to touch—thick, firm, warm, and bracketing him in. Bucky could probably—easily—kill him where he lay just by shifting to squeeze those thighs together. It wouldn’t even be that hard.

“What are you thinking about?”

“How easily you could kill me with your sexy, sexy thighs. You know, the usual.”

Bucky sighed, “The scary part is you’re being honest.”

“Yeah, that is pretty scary, isn’t it?” He tried to crane his neck, but couldn’t get a real view of Bucky’s face. Maybe that was a good thing. “Why, did you spike my dinner with truth serum?”

“I don’t need truth serum.”

“Behold, another scary part.”

Bucky spoke slowly, testing out the words as he went along like they were a shitty rope bridge, “Even though I know things, I still need to talk about them with you.”

It gave him actual goosebumps, all his hair standing on end. His heartrate kicked up, which he knew Bucky could feel (and hear?), but that thumb kept making its arc and soft lips touched the side of his head. His breathing quickened next and he squeezed his eyes shut, hating how easily this happened to him. He didn’t hate how clearly Bucky read him, without any effort at all, but it did make it feel like at any moment the ground could turn to quicksand and the only way he’d survive was by trusting Bucky to pull him to safety. He wasn’t used to having to trust someone else this much. Ever. Especially not with his emotions and sexuality.

“You’re safe,” Bucky whispered. “No one hurts you here, okay? I know this isn’t easy. But it’s important.”

“God, I wish you were dumb.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I also wish you were_ wrong_ sometimes.”

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty good at screwing things up.”

“Is that why you’re always so careful?”

“Hmm. Partially. I guess I just haven’t had a reason to not be careful, for as long as I can remember, really. And I definitely don’t want to screw this up.”

“Why? The spell? Cause we’re stuck with each other now?”

“Is that the way you think of it?”

“You know I don’t.” Clint breathed through the fear pressing him down, the quicksand closing in around him. He reached up and held on to Bucky’s arm like he literally needed to in order to keep from sinking. He pulled his legs up and focused on the feeling of being held.

“Just let it out. Let it go. It’s not helping you to keep it all inside anymore. When you get this scared, I can almost taste it, it’s so strong. I can’t know how to help if you don’t talk to me.”

The quicksand was up past his throat, crushing his airway. He needed to get something out. Anything. Or it would have him. “The only person who ever cared this much is Nat, and the ways you’ve had me? The things I’d let you do to me?” He laughed. “Let you? Who am I kidding, I’d _beg you_ to do them. How the fuck am I supposed to survive trusting _anyone_ this much? If the mood struck you could have me skinned alive and turned literally inside out before anyone could do anything about it, let alone me. How deep does your darkness go? Do you have any idea? Can you really promise you’re free of it? That I am safe?”

“I can. I can promise that.”

“How?”

“We’re in Avengers Tower. There’s a near-sentient AI watching us at all times, as they love to remind us. And I am incapable of ever hurting you, Clint.”

“Because of the spell? Because it makes you need me, which means you have to protect me?”

“That’s part of it. It’s not the whole thing.”

“The rest?”

“Are you that afraid of being loved?”

“Do you even know what this feels like? It feels like I’m standing naked in a room, drugged and chained, and there are hooks in each and every necessary or sensitive part of my body, every organ, and I have to trust that the person holding the lines on the hooks won’t yank and tear something vital out. Of course I’m scared!”

“You don’t think I feel the same way? Who am I to deserve someone like you, huh? Do you have any idea how lucky I feel just to wake up next to you every morning? Or whenever you make me smile or laugh? How glad you make me just to be _here_ and _alive _and _with you_? Do you have any idea how beautiful you are when you submit to me? How much you take my breath away? How easily you do it, how completely? I’ve been helpless. I’ve been torn apart, over and over. I know how it goes and what it feels like. I understand—better than anyone—how scared you are every single moment. I know how important it is to live up to my responsibilities.”

“Tell me it’s just about sex,” Clint asked, hearing the desperation in his voice. “Lust. Whatever.”

“Would it be easier?”

“Yeah,” he laughed, hollowly, feeling on the verge of tears and he didn’t even know why.

“Well, we don’t get easy. You’re not replaceable and I’m gonna need a lot more from you than your body. I’m not living here for easy access. I don’t give up on people I care about, whether there’s magic involved, or not. How about you, huh? When’s the last time you let fear hold you back from doing something that mattered?”

“Buck, this the very last of my survival instincts kicking in. You already have everything. Every part of me. All I can do is beg you not to hurt me any more than necessary.”

“What do you need? Do you need a ring? I’ll get you one. We don’t need a ceremony or anything like that. Just a promise, from me to you, that I will not ever leave you or hurt you. And whenever you doubt that, you can touch the ring and know that I promised.”

Clint didn’t know when he’d started crying, but when he heard the crack in Bucky’s voice, felt Bucky’s tear against his cheek, Clint held his breath as long as he could. Breath hitching as he was forced to inhale, he let Bucky gather him even more tightly against his chest, hand cupping the back of Clint’s head, arms wrapping around, legs curled up like shields around him.

Eventually, he managed, “Okay. I’m sorry.”

He finally looked up at Bucky’s face, his dark eyelashes wet, his eyes red as he said, “I can’t wear one on my left hand, but if you don’t mind tradition I could—”

And that’s all he got out before Clint was kissing him, whimpering into the contact and pushing up to get more, biting at Bucky’s lip, using his grip on the back of Bucky’s head to keep him there.

“I love you,” Clint told him, as soon as he came up for air.

Bucky breathed out a laugh and a fresh pair of tears slipped down his cheeks. He kissed Clint again, quickly but heatedly. “I love you too.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Now, lay back and relax and stop freaking me out.”

“Yes, Master,” Clint smirked, ignoring the glare of warning from Bucky.

*

There was more. Of course there was more. Bucky got some water and tissues and reclaimed his spot as Clint’s longue chair.

It was full dark, inside and out, with only the twinkling city lights and stars to light the way.

“We need to talk about what Stephen said. Eros’ message. I told you already I was attracted to you before all of this. So, how straight are you, exactly?”

“Well, less than I thought it seems.”

Clint had his arms looped back behind his head to play with Bucky’s hair with one hand and to caress the softness of Bucky’s shirt at his collar with the other. Bucky’s metal arm was slung over the back of the couch. The other kept nudging the bottom hem of Clint’s sleeveless t-shirt higher as it traced complex patterns on his navel with its fingertips. It had already made Clint half-hard. He was also sucking his stomach in whenever Bucky skimmed over a ticklish spot.

“Please, you know you’re the prettiest Avenger,” Clint sulked. “It’s not my fault.”

Bucky laughed, low and light. “Excuse me?”

“I’m allowed to have opinions.”

“Wow. Okay. And?”

“And what? What exactly was it about the way you presented yourself to us was I not supposed think was hot?”

“I can’t even follow what you just said. You thought I was hot when Hydra still had me brainwashed and I attacked?”

“No! Yeah. Maybe. Lay offa me, would’ya?”

“No, I’m curious. Let’s spend some time with this. What exactly did you think was hot?”

“You knew exactly what you wanted and no one was going to keep you from taking it, and you were trained and pretty and dressed like a kinky motherfucker and I liked it, and I know now there was some not-cool brainwashing and torture behind it, which is _not_ hot, but all I had to go by was you swinging around motorcycles and wielding rocket launchers and come on, I’m only human.”

“But, wait, did you like fantasize about me, or was it just a random mid-battle hard-on?”

“I’m giving both of us permission to not discuss this any further.”

“Nice try.” When Clint kept holding out, Bucky slid his hand down to cup him through his thin cotton sleep pants, lightly stroking his swelling erection like it was a well-behaved cat. “I can make you my captive if you want me to.”

As if Clint wasn’t already his captive.

Bucky continued, “Eros said there was a spark of lust in us that the spell fed and made stronger. Not admiration. Lust.”

Clint squirmed, frowning. The metal arm shifted to rest along the side of his body, the fingers pressing gently on Clint’s hip. This effectively stopped him from being able to move his hips at all. A leg swung over to pin down his lower legs as well. “Mm... Really not fair…”

Bucky leisurely guided Clint’s cock upright, tenting the pants, then pulled the fabric tight over his straining length, outlining it clearly. Then he resumed tracing it lightly with his fingertip, dragging it up the shaft and circling over the ridge of the head before stroking back down with his palm to brush down over his sac.

“You thought about me and touched yourself. When?”

“Damn it, James.”

“Come on.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“When?”

“Not that long ago, okay? We were sparring and you pinned me to the mat and you smelled better than I wanted you to. And your hands… you were rough with me without it hurting much. You didn’t let go when I struggled. You growled a little. It was awful.”

Bucky loosened the tie on the pants and pushed them down, freeing Clint’s dark, full hard-on to arch up in a curved line against his belly. He caressed up Clint’s abdomen, pushing up the shirt and began teasing the sensitive skin of his left areola.

“Lie still. No moving.”

“Please…”

“Tell me how you touched yourself.”

“Why?”

“Did you finger yourself?”

Clint’s cock twitched, his chest pressing up into the fingers on his nipple as they pinched and twisted.

“Yeah,” he exhaled, whimpering.

“You wanted me to fuck you?”

“I didn’t _not_ want you to fuck me,” Clint complained.

“But you’re straight.”

“I don’t know. I was jerking off and the feel of you holding me down was still there and I wondered what it would feel like, so I fingered myself.”

“First time ever?”

“What do you think?”

“One finger?”

“Am I crazy? Yes.”

“Did you come?”

“No, I hated it and went limp. What do you think, superpowered man who has me pinned and exposed on my own couch?”

Bucky began running the side of his thumb repeatedly down the length of Clint’s shaft. Just enough to drive him fucking crazy, and nowhere near enough to give relief.

“Just the one time?”

“Yes, just the one time. I thought there was something wrong with me and panicked. Blocked it out. It was just a fantasy. We all think about weird shit when we’re getting off.”

“Weird shit like what?”

“Oh, no you don’t. My reality is weird enough already, thanks.”

Bucky gathered up Clint’s sac and pulled a little, nuzzling his temple as he whimpered and tried to squirm. “I liked holding you down when we sparred,” he whispered. Clint shivered with pleasure.

Bucky let go and resumed his torturous stroking around the base. “You’re so good for me. You could touch yourself at any time, but you won’t, because you like being good for me even more than you like coming. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Clint turned his face to hide it from view, pressing it against his own arm.

“Don’t move,” Bucky warned.

He spat into his palm, wrapped it around Clint’s cock and began jacking him hard and fast. Clint cried out, gasping harshly, convulsing a little as reflex fought back. Right as his orgasm started to build, Bucky stopped, gripping tight around the base to keep him from coming.

Whining, Clint fought to stay still, some muscles in his stomach and thighs still spasming now and then, as his cock dripped. He took a fuller handful of Bucky’s hair as a comfort mechanism.

Clint’s balls had drawn up tight. Bucky gently pulled on them again, caressing as he maintained tension. Clint gasped, small, rough begging sounds coming from him pretty steadily.

“Perfect.”

When Clint had calmed down a little, Bucky started to tease the sensitive, soaking wet tip, dragging his thumb around it, rubbing at the slit.

“I asked to spar with you the first time. I asked Steve to pair us up. The second time… was that you? Did you ask for me?”

“Yes,” Clint panted.

“We had our shirts off. Did you like touching me? Did you watch me get unchanged, after?”

“Please…”

Bucky wrapped him tight, tugging hard and slow.

“Fuck.”

“Don’t come.”

Buck took him right up to the edge, silently savoring Clint’s increasingly desperate whimpers. Then let go and gripped him again instead with fingers circled tight around his root, pressing there.

Clint sobbed, cock straining painfully, trying to come and unable to, hips trying to thrust and held completely still, his chest heaving.

“Very good.”

When Bucky moved to let go, unwinding his leg and pulling the metal arm back onto the couch, Clint felt a spark of panic.

“No, please…”

“Shh, you’re fine.”

“Please don’t let go.”

“Okay.”

The leg hooked back over. Bucky’s arms moved to clasp behind both of Clint’s, immobilizing him.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

There were fresh bruises where the metal fingers had been pressing at his hip.

Ever since that night in Bucky’s remote, secret apartment, they’d kept the sex gentle and tender. It had been sporadic, their schedules too full. A bullet had grazed Clint’s arm in a recent stake-out near the docks with Tony, and he’d sprained his left ankle, so Bucky had given him time to heal. Ever since Bucky had moved in, Clint had been too on-edge and nervous to go there, fearing it would make it all too real.

Savoring the unnatural strength of Bucky holding him down, and the throbbing ache in his cock, knowing Bucky was watching and enjoying his work, Clint was terrified for it to end. He craved the intensity. Danger had always been the fuel propelling him, firing him up. Sexual danger was easier to handle than the emotional kind. Bucky needed and expected a lot when it came to sex. Clint was ready for the challenge. He wanted Bucky to give him chances to prove himself and how completely he was willing to obey.

As soon as Clint’s breathing evened out and the tension in his body eased, Bucky went back to tugging him, slow, tight, and complete. With a devastated moan, Clint shuddered. Clear drips were milked from him to pool on his navel. It started to cross the line and Clint made a wild yell.

“Shh,” Bucky hushed, shifting to squeeze his root again, holding Clint as he convulsed and swore. “See? You’re strong. You can do this.”

Dizzy, panting, Clint tried to spread his legs, to arch his back, anything. Something inside him demanded more. A lot more. It loosened his hold on everything - other desires, thought, emotion, even awareness - leaving him only with lust.

“No, be still or I’ll keep going.”

Clint settled, focused on his breathing.

“The night we left the tower together,” Bucky said, “You were badly swollen after we had sex. Bruised. Hurt. I know it was your first time, but we have to be more careful. It was too much for you.”

“No, please…”

“Listen,” Bucky said sharply.

After a breath, Clint said, “I’m sorry. I’ll listen.”

“I’ll give you what you need,” Bucky explained. “But I’ll try to do it in ways that won’t injure you like that again.”

“But…”

“What?”

“You need more than I do. I want you to be satisfied.”

“Trust me, I intend to get what I need too. It’s not just about coming for me. It’s also about… control. Like right now. I need it as much as you do. And I will always let my stamina test yours.”

With that, he started again, his hand slipping up and down Clint’s cock, eased by all the pre-come. He savored Clint’s panting and pleading, his physical fight against the agony of denial and his own willpower. Sweating, wishing to be completely free of his clothes, but not enough to be willing for Bucky to let him go, Clint sank into the calm of his trust. Everything Bucky was doing sated a need Clint didn’t even know how to express. The longer it went on, the smaller that need grew, like a raging beast shrunk slowly back down to a manageable size.

He’d never ached as much as he did then. Just the lightest touch to the purplish-red flesh of his erection was making him cry as shockwaves radiated throughout his overstimulated body. Which meant Bucky’s rough tugs made him feel like dying, his yells gaining a sharper edge each time.

Clint held on and held out, somehow.

Soon, he was too exhausted and too deep into his submissive state to think of moving. Bucky guided his arms down, caressed his chest and jaw, whispering praise, kissing his temple. He kept Clint on edge and time lost all meaning, his reprieves lengthening.

The night deepened, and for Clint the shape and form of things lost substance.

Eventually, once the pain well surpassed the pleasure of obedience, Bucky gently stroked him and Clint begged him to stop. Bucky just whispered, “It’s okay. Come for me, gorgeous. Come on. It’s okay.”

Clint fought it, so Bucky held him down and pumped him through it.

It all went black.

When Clint came to, he was lying with his head in Bucky’s lap. Now sitting upright on the couch, Bucky used his wadded-up shirt to pat Clint’s face dry.

“There you are,” Bucky smiled, kissing the spot between his eyebrows. “Welcome back.”

Clint gazed down at how much come was streaked over his chest and stomach, felt the continued dull throb in his balls, and groaned.

“You were perfect. I’m so proud of you,” Bucky told him, folding their hands together.

“But you didn’t get to—”

“I have everything I need. Rest a little more and then we’ll go to bed, okay?”

“Thank you. I, um, I needed it,” Clint confessed, unable to express how desperate he was for more, for it to never stop. He knew a large part of it was the spell talking, but not all of it. He hoped it at least showed in his expression and voice.

“Me too, I think.” Bucky caressed Clint’s throat, pressed fingertips to his pulse point. “Was it enough?”

“For now.”

“Okay. We’ll figure it out together. But there’s only so much I’m willing to let you hurt and fight it.”

Clint nodded, knowing he was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Tony + Steve + Peter = ???
> 
> Chapter 3 will be posted on Thursday! Thank you for reading :)


	3. Chapter 3

Tony discovered pretty fast that though Steve didn’t go anywhere near Peter except for innocent reasons, he did like to watch Tony interact with him in decidedly not-innocent ways.

That first full day together, Tony felt too guilty about Peter’s predicament to leave him alone very long and escape to get some work done. He rescheduled a few meetings and figured out what he could do remotely while they hung out in the penthouse. But being around Peter, who it turned out didn’t love being fully clothed if it wasn’t required, had obvious consequences.

After their afternoon breakfast, Peter got online to figure out how to reapply at his university for the next semester. Meanwhile, Tony tasked his property manager to start the process of looking for a new renter in Peter’s apartment. They both got lost in their messages for a while until getting up for a coffee and snack break, which led to Tony pushing Peter up against the fridge to kiss him breathless.

Steve walked in on them. Peter’s hands were pushed down inside the back of Tony’s opened jeans to cup his ass. He was grinding on Tony’s hip with broken little whimpers. Tony gave a hard bite to Peter’s bottom lip before breaking away to ask, “You want in on this, Rogers, or what?” He thrust the top of his thigh up against Peter’s groin to cause a particularly sharp cry and a shudder.

“Did… did he just…?” Steve stammered.

“Don’t answer a question with a question.” He bit down on the junction of Peter’s neck and shoulder as Peter pulled on his hair and panted, “Fuck, harder.”

By the time they got themselves together, Steve was beet red and failing not to ogle Peter’s kiss-bitten lips, the fresh bruise on his neck, and all of his flushed, post-orgasm skin, since he was still shirtless and you could see the top of his ass when he bent over to grab a soda from the fridge.

It happened again later while they waited for delivery to bring a very late dinner. Tony was on the couch, using a holo to run through some test scenarios on upgrades to War Machine’s weaponry when Peter slid onto his lap, humping him with little rolls of his hips, and tried to tongue-fuck Tony to death. Steve had been on a call with Maria Hill and promptly hung up on her (which was hilarious enough to make Tony laugh aloud through his moans) to enjoy the show. This time Tony opened Peter’s jeans and pulled them down a little to get his cock out and jack it for him. It gave Steve a prime view of Peter’s ass clenching as he rode Tony’s fist and came with a raspy, “Oh fuck please.”

Steve’s eyes darkened enough to make Tony nervous.

Peter stood on shaky legs to go get cleaned up but soon stopped short when he saw what happened next.

Steve stalked over to Tony, fell to his knees, yanked Tony’s pants down to the ankles, forced his thighs to spread and deep-throated him like his life depended on it. As was typical for them, Tony uselessly tried to guide Steve’s speed and depth, his voice breaking around wordless cries.

At some point this had become something of a competition, Tony realized as Steve demonstrated how good he was at snapping Tony’s tether to the world around them. When Steve took him over, nothing else existed.

Thing was, Steve also knew how to take his time. Each time Tony got close, he’d back off and lick instead. Caressing Steve’s jaw, alternately riding his tongue, throat, and lips, Tony entered a new realm of delirium when Peter came around behind the couch and gave him an upside-down kiss that was all feather-light brushes of lips and plaintive gasping. He rubbed Tony’s chest through his t-shirt as Steve took him deeper into his throat. Bucking, Tony arched, caught between Steve and Peter, barely breathing as he came. Peter pulled away, letting Tony catch his breath and getting the chance to watch Steve swallow a load of hot come while moaning happily about it.

Steve met Peter’s gaze while licking Tony’s semen from his swollen lips. Tony heard Peter’s caught breath and half whimper, then collapsed in total exhaustion with closed eyes as the kid took off for the bedroom.

As he tried to recover, Tony privately swelled with gratitude for Bruce’s appearance that morning, and his urging to get the hell out of there on the regular before they fucked him to death.

Because you didn’t have to be a genius to know this was only the beginning.

*

“We took a vote,” Natasha explained. She sat next to Bruce, Rhodey, and Sam. On the other side of the table was Tony, Steve, Peter, Bucky, and Clint. Tony kept glancing sideways at the ring Clint idly played with, twisting it around his finger. He’d only seen Clint wear it a handful of times, during stressful missions or when things were generally tense in the tower. He’d been writing it off as a fashion statement or maybe even some subtle tech weapon to help in battle. This time, Tony noted the matching ring on Bucky’s third finger, which was slung over the back of Clint’s chair, and realized it was something else entirely.

“Everyone, not just us,” Bruce added. “We’re just here to, uh, deliver the message.”

“A vote on what?” Steve said, giving them the dreaded eyebrows of disapproval.

“Tony, Steve, and Peter,” Natasha told them, “You’re not to go on missions together. If we all get called to battle, Tony stays behind and uses one of the other suits remotely.”

“What?” Tony blurted.

“It’s for your protection,” Bruce insisted.

“I’m fucking Iron Man, I don’t need protection,” he raged, not even bothering to look before warning under his breath with a finger pointed to Steve, “Don’t say it.” He shifted the finger to Peter. “You either.”

“Can I say it?” Clint asked.

“You need protection because _they’re_ fucking Iron Man,” Bucky provided.

“Aw, I wanted to say it,” Clint lamented.

“We’re too distracted around each other. It makes sense.”

“You’re okay with not fighting alongside Clint?” Natasha asked.

“I am,” Bucky said. “I trust him. I trust all of you to watch his back.”

Natasha looked right at Clint. “How about it?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Clint shrugged. “I don’t think I could even spar with him let alone focus on an actual fight if he was there.”

Something passed between Bucky and Clint.

“What?” Tony asked. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Bucky said with finality.

Peter spoke up next. “But what about patrolling? Tony’s always been who I call if I get in trouble, or—”

“Call me,” Rhodey told him with a smile.

“Or me,” Sam added. “We can get there just as fast.”

Deflating a little, Peter said, “Okay, yeah. I guess that makes sense,” while biting his lip and studying Tony’s expression with a small frown-line of concern in his brow.

“Tony?” Rhodey said. They all were looking at him.

Hands folded in front of his mouth, elbows on the table, he wanted to fight it. He didn’t trust Sam or Rhodey to know how Peter always took too much on himself, dangerously overestimating his abilities. But, he realized he could still track the kid remotely through the suit, and if he really needed Tony it wasn’t like any of them could stop him.

“Tony.”

“Fine.”

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“Yeah? You think so?”

Rhodey raised his voice slightly, “FRIDAY, initiate protocol protect Tony. He’s going to authorize it right now if he wants Peter to stay on the team.”

Steve and Tony started to protest at the same time, talking over each other.

“_I_ authorize it, okay!” Peter yelled. “Do it. Whatever… whatever you need to do, just do it. I want to be here. I don’t want to have to leave again.”

Tony hung his head, “Damn it. Fine. I authorize it. What did I just authorize?”

“If you go after Peter, every single Avenger gets notified instantly. Even the Guardians and T’Challa and Captain Marvel.”

“They’re nowhere _near_…” He took a breath, tried to calm down. “So it’s just to humiliate me?”

“Your suit will also automatically redirect itself back to the tower, and if you try to circumvent this in any way, we will all also be notified. Peter is an adult with serious responsibilities, in a very adult relationship with someone—”

“Two,” Steve muttered. “Two someones.”

Rhodey corrected, “With two someones who _both_ also have serious responsibilities. If Peter is mature enough to put his life on the line every day, he’s mature enough to know how to call for help from someone other than you. Karen already monitors his bio signs and will alert us if he’s in danger. You don’t need to do this in order to keep him safe. It’s not a punishment or a way to humiliate you. It’s a way to ensure if you do lose your damn mind and try something, someone more capable will be able to intercept and do whatever it is that needs doing. Do I make myself clear?”

“You know I wasn’t hit by one of the arrows, right?”

“Weren’t you?”

Steve murmured Tony’s name. His hand grazed the back of Tony’s neck. And Tony made himself let it go.

“Thank you,” Steve told him softly. To Rhodey, Steve said, “You’re clear.”

“I need him to say it.”

“You’re clear. I’m clear. We’re all fucking clear,” Tony snapped.

“You’re not the only one who wants Peter safe and healthy. He doesn’t work for you. He works with all of us.”

They let the dust settle for a minute.

Rhodey looked at Natasha, then nodded.

“Oh, what now?” Tony groaned.

“Tony, Bucky, you’re both leaving on assignment with me. Bucky’s going to assist for the first half of the mission. We leave at 0500.” She tapped a few times on her tablet. “The pre-mission briefing is being sent to you now. Short version is there’s someone out in Silicon Valley using advanced drone technology—could be alien—to break into high security locations.”

He took the deepest breath ever and addressed the ceiling. “Convenient timing.”

Rhodey, Sam, Peter, and Clint all got up and left the conference room. Bruce pulled Steve aside into an adjoining room. Tony and Bucky settled in as Natasha pulled up some schematics and incident reports.

*

“You don’t need to say it,” Steve told Bruce.

“Don’t I?”

“I heard you with him yesterday. I understand.”

“Humor me a little by explaining to me exactly what it is you understand,” Bruce invited, using his doctor voice to help pacify.

Steve could see Peter through a few panes of glass in the door and walls separating them, lingering out in the common space, pouring a fresh coffee as he was cornered by Rhodey and Sam. It was already strange to see him fully clothed and wearing shoes. Whenever his guard started to drop, Steve found himself trying to picture Peter fully naked and had been doing his best to stop that in its tracks. Whatever the spell had awakened in him was primal and intense. Even with it faded back, Steve hated the thought of unleashing that on an eighteen-year-old who’d already been through more than his fair share of trauma. He knew Tony not only could take it, but wanted it. Peter—he was a different story.

“You think they’re still too fixated on each other. Tony and Peter. You’re trying to minimize the distractions and help them both get back on track by sending Tony away on assignment for a while. Help Peter ease back into patrolling without Tony looking over his shoulder. Give Tony a way to stay busy.”

“Yeah, but that’s a whole lot about them and nothing about you.”

“I’ll do my best to make Peter comfortable.”

“Comfortable?” Bruce echoed, eyebrows raised. He thumbed back over his shoulder. “You just told all of us he’s officially in a relationship with you too, or did I mishear?”

Steve sighed, shifted his stance and folded his arms.

Bruce glanced sideways at the conference room, and then back at Steve. “This is confidential, but I have permission to tell you. Tell Peter and Tony if you have to, but it doesn’t go farther than that. Stephen’s looking into ways to draw the power of Eros’ spell into totems or amulets to help him function, but he’s also reported to me that he’s found, uh, relief by being with other people. The spell doesn’t care where you vent its energy, just that you do it. The effects it has on your systems completely dissipate if the pressure gets released regularly. Two people with super strength regularly venting only with Tony is a bad situation. Period. Peter has a healing factor, _and_ an equal need to get this out of his system if he wants to stay balanced. Tony doesn’t. Plus, Pete’s agreed to be with you, which means he _wants_ to be with you. Right? So… be with him. Figure it out while it’s just the two of you.”

He studied Steve’s face, blush and all, as he averted his gaze.

“You’re afraid of hurting him? Peter?”

“No,” Steve sighed. “I have self-control. He’s just so…” small, young, innocent…

“Do you want to be with him?”

Steve covered his eyes with a hand, hating the entire conversation, hating that Bucky could probably hear all of this. Clearly.

“Yeah,” Steve exhaled, clarifying no further.

“Well. What’s the problem?” When Steve had no answer, Bruce offered, “How about I send Bucky and Clint to check in once in a while? Bucky with you and Clint with Peter? And if you ever need anything, you know how to reach me. I live nearby, after all. And there’s always FRIDAY.”

“Yeah. Yeah, there is. Okay. Sure. Thanks, Bruce.”

Bruce left. Steve lingered, digesting the details of the mission he’d been assigned, catching Bucky’s eye through the glass and feeling the weight of dread sink into the pit of his stomach.

*

“Hey. Quick question,” Tony blurted, holding out a hand just short of Bucky’s chest. Bucky glared down at it and then up at Tony’s face.

“Yeah?”

“What is this?” He held up his own hand, pointing at the ring finger. “Did you two get married without telling anyone or what?”

“Tony,” Bucky said, “It’s absolutely none of your fucking business.”

“Can I see it?”

“No.”

Tony stroked his goatee. Bucky made sure his expression was mask-like in its blankness.

“Well, I have my ways,” he said ominously, before turning and leaving, passing Steve on his way out.

Bucky rolled his eyes as Steve approached. Natasha had left already so it was just the two of them.

Steve held out a hand, “Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

“Gross,” he grumbled, but let Steve lift his hand and look at the ring.

An eyebrow shot up. “Vibranium? You’ve worn this into battle. Doesn’t that hurt?”

“I have a healing factor. If I punched something while wearing a silver or gold ring, how long do you think the ring would last? It’s thin. It’s fine.”

“Should I congratulate you or what?”

“Would’ya lay off, please?”

“Come on, Buck,” Steve pleaded.

“If you tell him,” Bucky said, nodding toward where Tony had just left, “then everyone will know. We don’t want everyone to know.”

“You’re both wearing them where we can all see. They’re gonna assume at some point. But if it makes you feel better, I promise not to tell Tony.”

Bucky pushed his hand through his hair and turned his back. “It’s a promise. We didn’t say vows. He feels like… like he lost control over everything. Himself, his emotions, his body, his free will. It’s a promise that I’ll always be there for him, no matter what, and he won’t ever have to cope with this on his own. But it’s not just about the spell, it’s about him and me. Together.” He winced. “God, please don’t say it.”

“That was beautiful, Buck. I’m so happy for you.”

“I just asked you not to…” he groaned. He turned back to face him, finger pointed in warning.

“Congratulations,” Steve said with a smirk, bowing fractionally. Bucky rolled his eyes again. Steve nudged his shoulder and a hint of a smile broke free.

“Yeah, yeah.” He leveled his gaze at Steve. “And what about you, huh? Why are you so scared of banging the kid?”

“Classy, Buck. Real classy. Because he’s a kid! He’s eighty years younger than us!”

“Stark’s already banging him. Seemed to like it. Seemed to be fucking exhausted by it, honestly.”

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about Tony too.”

Bucky spread his hands, shrugging. “He’s not invincible, even though he likes to act like it. Clint at least doesn’t try to hide it when he’s overwhelmed or needs a break. And there’s only one of me. And he’s under the spell too. He needs it in ways Tony doesn’t.” Steve held his gaze, jaw clenched, but Bucky could tell some of what he said got through. “Sometimes I have to check Clint’s eyes for that red glow because of the way he acts. He is only human. I think this thing hit him harder somehow. Like he’s less able to control it when it comes forward. I know better than anyone what mind control is. The signs. He’s got this thing in him that _needs_ and all I can do to help is find ways to give it what it wants so it’ll give him some peace. You, me, and Peter, we’re powered so it’s easier for us but it’s still in there. We have to feed it. Clint has me. Peter has you. Tell me I’m wrong. Go on.”

Steve wouldn’t, or couldn’t, look at him. His voice was low, quiet. “What if once I start I can’t stop?”

Bucky drew in a breath, some bad mental images flooding in before he could stop them.

“I’ve been holding back with Tony. This… thing… in us, I know I haven’t been feeding it enough. It’s like it knows it needs to protect Tony from serious harm, so it lets me stop early. But when I’m around Peter?” He shook his head, looking nauseous, eyes averted. “I know he’s strong, but I can’t imagine… How could I do that to him?”

If Steve needed him to go there, he would. Bucky said, “You don’t think Peter’s going through the same thing? What you’re both doing by refusing to manage this properly is dangerous for everybody. There’s a reason we all voted on this. It’s exactly why Tony needs to step back until you and the kid figure this out.” He forced eye contact. “You’ll feel him break. It’s okay. He needs to break as much as you need to break him. There’s an edge you have to get past, together. Then, it backs off. You’ll be able to stop. I know you, better than anyone. You won’t hurt him more than is necessary.”

Steve paled.

“Look, it’s gonna happen. As soon as you’re alone together a while, it will. No question. I’m telling you it’s okay. Let it. Establish a protocol with FRIDAY so you can easily call for help if it turns a corner. But if Peter’s in danger a distress signal will go out anyway. Just don’t go near Peter outside of the building if he’s not in the suit. Like Bruce said, I’ll check on you. I’m only gonna be gone a few days. Clint will check on Peter.”

“Fuck,” Steve groaned.

Bucky clapped Steve on the arm. “Exactly.”

*

There was something that needed to happen first, before Tony left. They all knew it. Just like Steve knew he had to let Tony and Peter go first, because Tony wouldn’t even be coherent after Steve was done with him.

He told Tony in advance to do what he needed to do to prepare to leave for the mission, and just meet them in the bedroom at eight.

Keeping in mind what Bucky had said—remembering all of the times before when he had broken Tony, only because Steve needed to do it, and not because Tony needed it in the same way—Steve planned ahead to establish as much control as possible. A new protection protocol with FRIDAY had been given a trigger word of _prostasia_, the Greek word for protection. It would send Tony’s autonomous Ironman suits to stun or restrain Steve and safeguard Peter, while also sending an urgent alert to the other Avengers within the tower. Peter had confirmed via text he received and understood the details of the new protocol, though he had tried to argue it wasn’t necessary.

Steve texted Tony the protocol details too. The reply had been almost instantaneous, asking why it was necessary. Steve texted back, ‘_Overabundance of caution, for Peter’s sake._’

‘_You’re siccing my suits on yourself for Pete’s sake?_’ was the next reply.

‘_Hey, I learned from the master_,’ Steve told him, remembering Tony’s initial self-preservation tactic after they’d first been hit by Eros’ arrows.

Other than that, Steve planned out his strategy to ensure both maximum success and safety—success at pacifying the magic as well as simply having sex in the same room together without something going wildly awry. There was so much to balance: emotional needs, psychological expectations, physical satisfaction, not to mention all the wild cards. Magic. Egos. Genius. Superpowers. Overprotectiveness on all sides. Their first threesome had all of the complexity of any battle they’d ever fought in.

And that wasn’t even all of it.

When he’d initially sent Tony to seduce Peter in order to win him over, Steve had seen the toll it had taken on Tony after.

Steve had no intention to break Tony this time, right before he went on a mission.

Luckily, he wouldn’t need to.

Bucky’s advice, right before they’d gone their separate ways after the meeting, had given Steve hope his growing, clawing need for release wouldn’t consume them all. There were other ways Steve could get what he needed. He craved control in similar ways Bucky did. But Steve also craved the indulgence of voyeurism, seeing Tony take Peter apart in all the ways Steve had fantasized about. Participating mainly an observer who got to direct some of what was happening was a gentle way to ease into their three-way relationship. Plus, the physical distance kept Steve from feeling like things could get out of hand.

He got everything ready ahead of time.

Peter spent a while in the bathroom, preparing. Steve could hear him in there, freaking out, talking to himself a little. He only came out once Tony knocked at the closed bathroom door, saying, “We know you’re in there. Come out with your clothes off. You know, if you want.”

Peter popped his head out, “Ooh, are we doing role play? Am I arrested?”

“Let’s work our way up to handcuffs,” Tony suggested. “This is kinky enough as it is. You look great by the way.”

“Thanks, um, you too.” His gaze darted to Steve, his heart rate kicking up instantly. It thudded away in his chest, and Steve couldn’t tell if it was fear or excitement causing it.

He was mostly hidden by the half-closed door.

Steve wore a pair of pants he liked to train in. They were black, the material thick, with convenient pockets for weapons or… other things… and laced with thick straps that wound around him. They helped him feel contained but able to move freely. They were also easy to get out of.

Tony had arrived in the outfit he’d dressed in earlier—designer jeans and a charcoal gray, silk button-down shirt.

“You still want to do this?” Tony asked Peter. “No pressure. Not too late to back out.”

“No, we have to,” Peter said in a rush, adding, “I mean, I want to.”

“Why did you say we have to?” Steve asked.

Looking right at him, though it seemed to take some courage to maintain eye contact, Peter said, “_We_ have to. You know why. But also I… have to. For my own reasons.” That’s when his bravery ran out, face flushing pink, gaze dropping, lip bitten.

Giving him some literal space, Steve wandered over to the windows, turning slightly away.

From his peripheral vision, he saw Peter emerge in only a pair of teeny tiny, low-rise black briefs that barely covered anything. His nipples were tight though the room was almost too warm. He was already half hard, his cock and the soft weight of his balls straining the already minuscule scrap of stretched fabric even further. The muscles in his body tensed with his anxiousness. It had sounded like he’d been literally climbing the walls in there while he waited.

The sight of him switched something on inside Steve that was mostly untouched by any logic or planning. The strength of his hunger swelled dangerously inside him. It wasn’t about Tony anymore, like it had been for months. Now, there was just something primal in Steve that demanded to be fed, and it salivated over Peter’s nervous willingness to be devoured.

He’d been holding this urge back for Tony’s sake for half a year. Now that choice caught up with him, so he stayed in the shadows of the darkened room. There was low lighting from some sconces by the bed, but that was it. Even the windows were blacked out, out of an overabundance of caution and desire for absolute privacy.

Peter was coming out of his skin, his tension spiking. When Tony lost the shirt and started kissing him, Peter dove into it as if starving. Tony guided him down to the bed. Forcing his mouth open wide, he swallowed Peter’s small mewls and gasps. Tony knelt between Peter’s spread thighs, leaning over him, his hands moving roughly all over Peter’s body, leaving scratches and red marks that faded quickly.

When Tony guided Peter free of his briefs, Steve finally made eye contact again with Peter, painful and quick as it was. He felt it like a hard yank at the core of him, and fought the instinct to move closer. Instead, he tossed Tony some lube, watched him slick the swollen length of Peter’s cock, stroking it a few times to spread the fluid. That was all it took for Peter to come the first time, his breath choking off as thick, white streaks painted over his abdomen. Trembling, he clung to Tony, riding his hand in smooth rolls of hips.

Mouth watering as screaming desire demanded he lick, suck, bite—anything—Steve looked away, working to control his breathing. When he glanced back, the minuscule underwear were off and two of Tony’s fingers were stuffed through the dark knot of Peter’s hole. Already hard again, Peter grasped frantically at Tony’s shoulders and neck, riding the hand inside him with small pushes.

“How are you tighter than I remember?” Tony asked, doing something with his fingers that made Peter yell, the sound sending blood rushing down to throb inside Steve’s already completely hard cock. Steve palmed himself, squeezing to ease some of the pressure. Peter’s gaze snapped to his crotch as soon as he did, and he let out a ragged moan.

“Just a… a little tense,” Peter panted.

“Shy?”

“Maybe.”

“Is it the lurking? Rogers, less lurking, please.”

Hand over his mouth, Steve locked eyes with Tony, who’d turned his head to deliver the snark.

“Jesus,” Tony said, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Steve managed.

“Fine. Sure. You’re as composed as Bruce a half second before he splits his pants and turns into a grumpy avocado.”

His fingers slipped out of Peter as he spoke. Steve watched as Peter’s hole clenched shut, the pink pucker dripping with lube. Tony rubbed in small circles over it before spreading the small opening apart again around his fingers, Peter’s rim stretching as he moaned.

“Give him a third,” Steve instructed.

Tony glanced down at Peter, whose eyes were half closed, his body flushed and restless, his lips parted softly, then looked back up at Steve, frowning. He added the third finger in a slow push on the next inward thrust. Peter’s mouth fell open on a hard grunt, his back arching.

“Harder,” Steve said.

“And why exactly do you think you’re in charge here?”

“Just do it.”

Looking a little resentful about it, Tony did it anyway, finger-fucking Peter harder. Peter bit his lip and winced, head thrown back, cries more desperate, cock leaking pre-come all over his navel, where it pooled and begged to be licked away.

“Hey. Should I tell him to fuck off?” Tony asked Peter. “Say the word.”

Peter shook his head from side to side, begging, “Please, I’m ready. Want it.”

Tony withdrew his hand, wiping off on a towel, then began to unbutton his pants. “Your call. Does the Captain get to stay for this part?”

“Yeah,” Peter sighed on a whimper, touching himself and spreading his thighs wider in invitation.

Steve got some kind of tunnel vision then, locked right on Peter, and slowly approached the bed without deciding to.

“Jesus, okay,” Tony surrendered, shedding the pants and his boxer briefs. He climbed on, hooked Peter’s legs over his shoulders, lined up and pressed in gently. Steve stared at the spot where Tony ploughed into him, spreading that small hole wide around his dark cock.

“Harder.”

“I’ve got this part, Rogers, thanks.”

Peter grabbed onto Tony, yanking him in faster, rocking down to ride him as Tony started to move. Tony guided Peter’s arms up above his head, held them down there and bent to kiss him while giving it to him steady and deep.

Urges hit Steve hard and sudden.

He wanted to finger Tony while he was inside Peter, to fuck him between the two of them.

He wanted to touch Peter’s stretched rim, slip a finger or two inside along with Tony to see what kinds of sounds he’d make.

He wanted to climb on the bed, feed his aching cock to one of the pair of them, and stuff it down their throat.

So, he backed off again and leaned against the far wall, opening his pants and jerking off as he watched them. He felt Peter watching him too and came with a hiss.

Slipping into the bathroom, he washed himself off at the sink and splashed cool water on his face.

When he heard their cries reach a peak, he went back in.

He got the thick dildo he’d sterilized earlier out of the drawer and brought it to Tony.

“Here. Use this.”

Tony looked doubtful.

“Do you trust me or no?” Steve challenged.

He climbed onto the bed up by Peter’s head. As Tony withdrew, Steve took hold of Peter’s ankles—one of the few times they’d ever touched and the first that wasn’t accidental or innocent—and drew them back, spreading him so his ass was tipped up and exposed. The toy was bigger than Tony but not as big as Steve.

“You want this?” Tony asked Peter intently. “Yes or no?”

“Yeah, yes. Yes, I,” he swallowed thickly, chest heaving with his breaths, voice thin and strained, “I want it. Please. I want you to.”

His gaze stayed trained right on Tony, but Steve saw the kid’s skin prickle with goosebumps, heard his pulse pounding.

Tony greased the dildo up and set the wide head against Peter’s clenched, wet hole. It looked like there was no way the massive thing would ever fit in his slim body, through such a narrow opening.

“If it hurts,” Tony prefaced.

“Please,” Peter begged.

He braced a hand on Peter’s ass to spread and still him as he pressed the thing inside.

Steve shivered pleasantly at the sharp, broken cry Peter made, getting a perfect view of his struggle to take it, shuddering as Tony applied constant pressure to work it through, inch by inch. Ecstasy settled onto Peter, his darkened eyes unfocused, sweat dripping down his face and covering his chest. Once the toy was halfway inside, Tony began pumping it in and out, working it even deeper on each stroke. He leaned in, licking up Peter’s shaft with the wide flat of his tongue, pressing it against his belly.

Peter seized up, stopped breathing and came. Steve felt Peter’s trembling as the orgasm washed through him. He knew better than to push Tony any more than he already had, but was glad he at least didn’t stop or ease up, continuing to give it to Peter in longer strokes. When he was taking it easily, Tony leaned in again and took Peter into his mouth, sucking him as he held the toy still, fully buried. Peter reached one hand back to grab at Steve’s leg, the other fisted in Tony’s hair.

Once spent and limp on the bed, Peter was released from Steve’s grasp.

Tony’s lips were shiny with saliva, flavored lube, and come, looking swollen and dark when he kissed Peter. Frowning, Tony cupped a hand against the side of his face. There was tension there, and Steve didn’t know how to get around it. Something in Tony clearly wanted to protect Peter from Steve, even though he’d readily agreed how necessary it was for them all to cross this line together. The instinct came from a deeper place than reason, which meant Steve had to let him work through it on his own somehow.

“Thank you,” Peter rasped. He glanced up at Steve, his eyes saying plenty all on their own.

Buzzing from head to toe, a good portion of his hunger sated by watching Peter get taken, Steve still couldn’t wait a second longer to get his hands on Tony. He knew the tension in Tony’s body was only going to make this better.

Steve climbed off the bed and moved around to where Tony stood drying his face and neck with a towel. He was flushed, sweaty, and gorgeous.

Stepping up to him, Steve rubbed a hand backward, hard, across Tony’s jaw to hook around beneath his ear. With his other hand, he brushed the knuckles down below the glowing arc reactor, following the trail of dark hairs down his navel, pivoting his wrist and wrapping Tony’s shaft in a tight grip. Tony’s breath quickened. He knew what was coming, and braced for it already, his eyes dark and lips soft.

“Ready for me?”

“Fuck yeah.”

He bit down on and sucked the side of Tony’s neck while getting lube on his fingers from the bottle in his back pocket, then moved around behind him to bite down on a shoulder instead. One hand hooked around the front of Tony’s throat, the other squeezed up his cock then began to jack it hard while Steve licked the dents his teeth had made in Tony’s shoulder. Tony had a firm grip on Steve’s arm at his throat, his panting breaths loud and strong. He’d had enough time to recover since fucking Peter, but his voice did splinter apart as Steve kept going, dragging Tony right up to the edge before letting go to leave him straining and swollen full, balls drawn up and heavy. Steve’s hand reached behind twisted the tips of three fingers into him. He shifted Tony closer to the bed so that his knees braced against it, then eased him forward by the back of the neck to bend sharply over, his hands resting flat on the bed top.

“Beautiful,” Steve sighed, running a hand down Tony’s spine.

He purposefully caught Peter’s eye as he started to finger Tony deeper, rubbing deliberately against his prostate on each push. Tony’s whimper blossomed gorgeously into a full yell. Peter had drawn his legs up and pressed together, his eyelids heavy and lips parted as he kept breathing hard even though he was just watching now. Feeling Tony clench on the fingers pumping in his ass, Steve glanced down to see if he could tell how swollen Peter’s hole was, wondering how soft he’d feel against his skin, how hot he’d be against Steve’s tongue, and how strongly his pulse would throb in his rim as Steve ate him out.

Steve got a steadying grip on the back of Tony’s neck. Then he gave Tony the full length of all three fingers, held still while he quivered, grunting, only to slowly spread them apart to increase the stretch.

“Fuck. Fuck!” Tony cried, jolting forward, though Steve drew him right back, closing his fingers a little.

“Better?”

Tony moaned.

“Please don’t kill him,” Peter whispered.

“Don’t worry, kid,” Tony panted. “Just feels like dying.”

“More?”

“Yeah, bring it.”

Steve massaged his prostate with two fingers inside and his thumb pressed up firmly to the skin behind Tony’s balls. With a sharp yelp, Tony fell forward, his arms giving out seconds before his knees. Steve didn’t let up but adjusted him to be more comfortable, his knees fitted more securely against the bed.

“Motherfucker,” Tony whined, writhing and convulsing.

By his ear, Steve whispered, “How wet are you right now, huh? Can’t wait to suck you dry. My mouth is fucking watering.”

“So,” Tony panted. “So much better than dying.”

Pulling out, Steve pressed his waistband down below his balls, saw Peter’s eyes grow huge at the sight and smiled.

He lined up and pressed in while pulling Tony back by the hip onto him, impaling him onto the thick, hard length.

Moaning heavily into the bed he was face-down against, Tony drew his arms up around his head, pulling at his own hair with one hand. He flinched, arched, and quivered as Steve slowly worked to bottom out. He paused to indulge a blissful sigh, then gradually built a rhythm, the thrusts growing longer and quicker until he was beating Tony’s ass with his hips.

Wanting to come quickly for Tony’s sake, Steve let Peter’s presence and rapt attention push him to climax. With a growl, teeth clenched, he pumped his seed deep into Tony before withdrawing, rolling Tony carefully over, and swallowing him down.

“No, god, fuck,” Tony croaked, strung tight, tendons in his neck straining, face red and tensed from head to toe as Steve deep-throated him and swallowed around his dick until he came.

Moments later, Peter was slack-jawed and speechless. Tony was curled up against Steve where they both laid on the bed. Steve smoothed back Tony’s hair and kissed him wherever he could reach. Tony just groaned and drifted quickly off to sleep.

“You okay?” Steve whispered to Peter.

“Yeah, that was, um,” was all Peter could get out, eyes averted.

“Did you like it?”

In response, Peter let his head fall back and cupped his new erection, legs still drawn up to try and hide it. His whole body was quickly suffused with a new blush.

“How many times in a row can you come?”

He shrugged.

The moment drew out. Tony was fully asleep in Steve’s arms. They’d shower in the morning.

Watching Peter hide his arousal, as he didn’t move or leave to wash up or get under the covers to sleep, Steve said softly, “Go on if you need to.” He corrected, “Want to.”

Peter hesitated two full minutes. Then his hand shifted to wrap what it’d been cupping.

“Spread your legs so I can see. Wider. A little wider. Good.”

It was perfectly quiet, with only Tony’s soft breaths and Peter’s hitching ones. Head laid back, eyes closed, Peter masturbated while Steve watched. He climaxed with a little whine, hips snapping, and curled forward slightly with the force of it. There was no mess, his cock jumping as he came dry.

“Good boy,” Steve praised.

Peter moaned softly, his eyes closed.

“C’mere. Come on.”

He rolled over, curling up behind Tony, his hand extended to rest on Steve’s waist. Steve reached over as well, past Tony, to brush his fingers through Peter’s sweat-damp, wavy hair as he drifted off to sleep too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 will be posted Monday. Thanks for reading :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter’s a favorite. It’s got vulnerable!Clint and caused my brand new Steve/Peter obsession. Enjoy :D

Clint stopped abruptly, barely making it out of the elevator when the doors slid shut behind him. His fingers were linked with Bucky’s, causing him to pull up short too.

“What?” Bucky asked, reading Clint’s expression. He instinctively slid him over and blocked Clint in against the wall, shielding him from the rest of the room with his body. They were all looking, starting to wonder, to whisper. Bucky’s proximity and his protective stance worked to dull Clint’s awareness of everyone else.

His head fell back on his shoulders. Reaching for and pulling up his sweatshirt’s hood to cover most of his head, Clint breathed, “Fuck.” His worries and the thoughts in his head receded the longer Bucky stayed close. This worked to calm him down, though he quickly couldn’t quite remember why he’d been freaked out to begin with. Bucky caressed the side of Clint’s face, the pads of his fingers barely skimming over the sensitive, freshly shaved skin.

Closing his eyes, Clint failed to push away sense memories as they rushed up—the magic inside him, or his libido, or both kicking in hard at yet another inopportune time. He remembered how Bucky’s fingers tasted; how they felt as a weight on his tongue as it curled around them; how he liked when Bucky reached back too far and Clint started to choke a little on them; how they stung when delivering a hard slap to flushed skin; how well they filled up his ass; and how nicely they curled around his cock.

He drifted there, too long.

Words reached for him like a small life-raft drifting in an endless sea. He had to swim for it, but knew it was his salvation.

“No, no, stay with me. Hey. There you are,” Bucky smiled. The more logical part of Clint’s mind knew other people were not as good at snapping him out of it when this happened. Once, while Bucky was off on a particularly long mission, Clint had drifted away in Bruce’s presence and had wound up carted off to the med bay for prolonged observation. Fat lot of good that did. Bucky had, and maybe would always have, a power over him that no one else did.

Lucky for him he loved the asshole so much.

And god, Clint loved when Bucky smiled.

“Hey stranger,” Clint grinned back like a sappy fool. “I fucking hate how pretty you are, by the way.”

“Yeah, likewise, smartass. You with me?”

“Yep. Present and accounted for.”

In the middle of the previous night, Bucky had gotten back from the mission Natasha and Tony were still away completing. Clint had been right there, awake and ready for him. For a couple of precious hours, Bucky had taken care of him. But they had things to do, and couldn’t hide away as long as Clint needed them to. His concentration had been for shit all week, even though they’d spent time together before Bucky left.

Bucky lifted his hands away, palms out. “Time for hands off?”

“No,” Clint whined, “that never helps.”

“So you say.”

“Hey, Eros signed you up for this greedy bottom and there’s nothin’ you can do about it now.”

“No, I guess not,” Bucky said, the corner of his mouth twisted in a smaller, crooked grin.

Because Bucky still wasn’t touching him, Clint reached out and physically brought Bucky’s hand back against his face. The grin left, replaced by a worried frown.

“Should we go back?”

Clint stepped up to him and wrapped him in a hug. He knew a bunch of the other Avengers were in the same room and watching all of this. Somehow he wasn’t able to care much, except to safeguard his own interests.

“I’m okay,” he murmured against the side of Bucky’s neck.

Bucky sighed, his hand cupping the back of Clint’s head, fear tensing his body.

“We’re going back,” Bucky decided.

“Really. I’m fine. We have to do this more, right? You said it was good for me.”

“Yeah, not convinced,” Bucky grumbled. “When you came back from your last mission, you were—”

“I know I was. It was a rough mission.”

They’d been apart for three weeks that time. Clint’s attention span plummeted towards the end. When he’d been reunited with Bucky in the recovery room where he’d been stitched back together, he’d had some kind of momentary breakdown. He’d literally thrown himself at Bucky hard enough to dent the plaster wall. Sobbing and hyperventilating, he’d been trying to rub himself against Bucky’s body everywhere they touched, even though the nurse was still in the room.

Awkward.

Bucky untangled Clint from the hug and stepped back, looking him square in the eye.

“Why did you stop when we got out of the elevator?”

He had to think about that one for a minute. “Um. Oh. Yeah. _He_ wasn’t supposed to be here. He had lab time scheduled. I checked. I triple-checked.”

Bucky tracked the target of Clint’s gaze slyly enough not to be noticeable about it.

Bruce.

Bucky’s frown deepened in confusion.

Clint rolled his eyes and gestured quickly to his own neck.

Bucky’s eyes widened.

_Oh._

_Right._

_That._

“And he’s looking at us,” Clint said with a forced smile and a slight wave.

“Good job, that was totally normal.”

“Oh fuck right off, James.”

Bucky folded his arms, widened his stance.

Groaning to see it, Clint dragged his hands over his face and tried to dematerialize. Maybe Eros had given him that power, too.

“We should go talk to Stephen,” Bucky suggested. “See if there’s something he—”

“There’s nothing,” Clint blurted. “I’m fine. I’ll handle it. Stop being an old man.”

“Yeah, well, stop being a spaz,” Bucky countered.

“Fair.”

The elevator dinged beside them.

“And that’s my cue,” Clint decided, starting to walk away.

Peter stepped out.

He perked up to see them. “Oh, hey! Morning. Or is it afternoon. It’s afternoon, isn’t it? Is it weird to say good afternoon? Aren’t British people the only ones who say that? Anyway. Hey. I guess you’re here for the, um.”

“Training simulations. Yeah,” Clint replied, glad for the distraction. “I think we’re all caffeine loading before heading down.” He thumbed back to the group circled around the coffee station. “How are you?”

“Oh, good. It’s weird, I guess, with Tony, um. But I’m fine.”

Clint chuckled.

“What?”

“Oh, just sounds familiar.”

Hands plunged into his sweatshirt’s pockets, he watched Bucky wander deliberately off towards Steve before continuing.

“So, um…”

“What?” Peter asked.

“It’s been a week since Tony took off. Have you and Steve…?”

Peter sputtered, frowned, folded his arms and then unfolded them to plant his hands on his hips instead. “Not, not really.”

“You should. Don’t you want to?”

Peter’s ears turned red and he pivoted on a heel to stalk away.

Clint’s hand caught him before he could.

“Kid, I know you’re powered so you can handle this shit better than me, but still. Get laid. Use that,” he nodded toward the tall blond human-embodiment-of-the-word-uptight who was frowning their way. “Guy’s so tense it’s like he’s got an entire building shoved up his ass. What? What’s that look?”

Peter’s hands were fisted in his own hair. He let go to wave them widely before dropping them. “It’s… it’s weird. I don’t know. He’s Captain America.”

“This isn’t exactly new information.”

“Before the whole Spiderman thing happened, he was just the guy in those dorky official videos who gave PSA talks in school. I got the whole puberty talk from him in health class, again via video, not, like, in person. I worked really hard to not notice whether he was attractive or not. Not that there’s actually a debate happening there. But, you know, he’s this symbol of justice and patriotic duty. It’s not… it hasn’t been like that with us, really. There’s, you know. A line.” He explained this last part while physically drawing a line in the air between them, and then gesturing to said invisible line with an expectant expression.

Clint laughed. “Yeah, okay. Nice try but I can see the way he looks at you.”

“Pshh,” Peter scoffed, but flushed pinker. “How… how does he look at me?”

“The way I look at a melting mint chip ice cream cone. Like if I don’t lick it soon, something terrible’s gonna happen.”

Peter’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head and his mouth tightened as he glanced at the elevator with just as much urgent desire to run as Clint.

Clint clapped his hands down against Peter’s shoulders and physically turned him toward Steve before pushing him away with a quick, “Go. Conquer. Take no mercy,” before walking himself toward the coffee oasis.

He made a wide circle around Bruce and walked up to the stack of mugs near Natasha.

She was looking at him, the way she does, so he prefaced, “Don’t start.”

“Nice of you to join us,” she said too casually.

Bruce inched closer, aiming for the array of sugars and sweeteners. Clint grabbed the nearest pot with coffee still in it, this one labeled hazelnut, and filled a mug, wanting to get out of there and to the part where he got to hit stuff with arrows or fists.

She held out her hand expectantly, palm up. “Okay, enough is enough. Let me see it.”

“See what?”

She raised an eyebrow, lips pursed. “You never wore it around us like this until the last week or so. Let me see it.”

This, of course, implied she’d been aware of it long before then. Unsurprising, yet irksome.

Clint held up his hand. “There, you saw it.”

“You might want to try for _less_ suspicious behavior,” she suggested. “Unless this really is a cry for help?”

Bruce kept inching closer.

Skin pebbling, aware of too many sets of eyes and ears focusing on him, Clint yanked the ring off his finger and slapped it into her palm.

She picked it up and scrutinized it, letting it catch the light.

“You notice that?” She nodded in the direction of Steve and Peter, both on the far end of the room though a good twenty feet apart, with Steve by the couches next to Bucky and Peter by the pantry stocked with snacks. The energy around them crackled. It got so charged when they were anywhere near each other, it made it intensely uncomfortable for anyone else in the vicinity. Maybe it would have been calmer if Tony was there. Or not. Maybe they all just had to let it run its course.

“Hey, I tried. I keep trying,” Clint told her. “They sleep in the same bed and Tony’s gone. It’s not like they can hold out much longer.”

“Yeah, it’s not like they’re both stubborn or anything.”

“You don’t know what this is like. It changes things,” Clint explained before he realized who was eavesdropping, then cursed to himself.

Natasha didn’t even smile or look up. “Hey, Bruce, check this out. There’s an engraving.”

Clint poured a bunch of creamer in his mug and opened the drawer for a spoon, keeping his head bowed.

Bruce stopped pretending he couldn’t hear them and took the ring from Natasha.

There was an infinity symbol on one side of the inside of the band and on the other ‘James Buchanan Barnes’.

“Why have you started wearing it in the tower?” Natasha asked as Bruce handed it back to him. When Sam and Rhodey came up to get some coffee too, Clint walked away, toward one of the small tables by the window. Bruce and Natasha followed, as expected.

“I wanted to.”

“Hmm.”

Clint lingered by the table. Natasha drew out a chair and sat down.

“Coping mechanism?” Bruce asked.

“No,” Clint scoffed. “It had been long enough. It’s impossible to keep any kind of secret from you people, so there was no point trying anymore.” 

“I didn’t get to throw you a bachelor party or anything, though,” Natasha complained.

“We’re not married,” Clint sighed.

“If you say so.”

“Why are you avoiding me?” Bruce asked.

Clint closed his eyes and prayed silently. “I’m not.”

“Is it getting worse? Is he hurting you? Are you asking him to hurt you?”

“No! Of course not. Everything’s fine. It’s just been busy. I’m busy.”

“So busy that things have been getting away from you? Making your control slip?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Pull the hood down.”

“No.”

“Bruce.”

“Pull the hood down, Clint.”

Natasha filled the subsequent tense pause with a hesitant, “Maybe you should just pull down the hood.”

The entire, vast room had gone silent.

He set down the mug on the table and pulled down the hood, eyes on the ground.

“Roll up the sleeves.”

It wasn’t fair. No one would have said anything. They would have let it go. The bruises weren’t even that dark. You could barely see Bucky’s fingerprints on his throat.

Pissed off, Clint shoved the sleeves up and held out his wrists for scrutiny, the bruises stark where the cuffs had bitten into the skin.

“Happy?”

A growl, low and deepening fast, said, “Sit down.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, Bruce!”

A chair was pulled out, scraping over the gleaming, tile floor, and a heavy hand pushed him down into it. Pretty gently, considering.

When his sore ass connected with the hard seat, Clint let out a sound that was pure, raw, unfiltered pain.

Natasha was already up and backing off. Bucky leapt the counter, sliding gracefully over it and sprinting to cross the distance, trying to put himself between them before Clint could even think to collect himself, or react, or say a word.

Dazed and hurt, Clint could only watch as Hulk, with a roar of outrage, knocked Bucky into a cement column hard enough to crack it, dust and debris flying.

“Fuck,” Bucky winced, his hand going to his back as Steve ran to his side and everyone else retreated to a safer distance. An alarm started to blare and warning lights flashed. Weapons were being pulled. It was getting away from them.

“Stop!” Clint called, loud and clear. Hulk gave another bellow, glaring at Bucky who slowly stood with Steve’s help, tensing like he was about to bound toward him for another hit. “Everyone just stop. Please,” Clint asked, his voice soft and calm.

He raised his hands in surrender and walked toward Hulk, looking back into his fretful green eyes as he did.

“Don’t—” he heard Bucky blurt, as Steve physically held him back from darting forward again.

Focusing on Hulk, who panted and ground his teeth together, fists clenched, Clint stepped into his space. He didn’t stop until he his face rested against the massively broad torso barely encased in Bruce’s specially-designed, stretchy training gear. He circled his hands around as much as he could in a hug and said softly, “I’m okay. I know you’re scared. But I’m not.”

A giant arm circled tenderly around him, holding him there. Then the other came around and he felt Hulk’s entire body curling around him, like a shell nothing could ever penetrate to hurt him again. It’s how Hulk held Clint during the months when he’d been taking Clint out of bed, ‘saving him’ from Bucky in the dead of night when they’d been sleeping peacefully in each other’s arms. Clint learned fast to just go with it, letting Hulk hold him. He’d wake up hours later next to Bruce and wouldn’t even bother leaving or waking him. Knowing how much pure affection was behind it, Clint wouldn’t have dreamed of depriving them of the comfort that was obviously craved. He knew how it felt to need something that badly.

“Hurt,” Hulk growled.

“I’m okay. I’m safe.”

It became slowly easier to complete the hug, the body in his arms shrinking down to a more manageable size, until his arms were looped behind Bruce’s back, whose arms were slung around him.

“I’m so sorry,” Bruce breathed against Clint’s neck.

“He takes good care of me. The emotions are bigger than me, so he helps me hold them back. That’s all. I only hid the marks because I didn’t want to worry you again. Everything was consensual. I swear.”

He kissed Bruce on the cheek and held him at arms’ length, hands on his shoulders. Bruce frowned at the faded handprint on Clint’s throat.

“I’m happy. We’re finding balance. It’s not always easy, but we’re getting there. How’s work been in the lab on the anti-Viagra front?”

“Not good,” Bruce sighed. He glanced around. Clint did the same and saw everyone else had left besides Bucky, who lingered restlessly a few feet away.

“We’ve talked about this,” Clint reminded Bruce. “In all its magnificent awkwardness. Right? Because you keep asking? And I suck at filtering shit?”

“Yeah,” he allowed, eyes closed.

“If I don’t get it out of my system, it builds up. Makes me feel crazy, like I can’t focus. Which is way more dangerous than anything that goes on in our bedroom. Bucky knows my limits. He gets me there without me hurting anything. Bruises are nothing. He’s never actually hurt me. Not once. Not even accidentally. Not even a pulled muscle. Okay? Nod or something.”

Bruce nodded.

“And, I mean, he is the resident expert at watching out for overly-eager pathetic guys who don’t know their own limits. I’m in good hands.”

“Sorry, Buck,” Bruce told him. “The rings are nice.”

“Thanks,” Clint heard from just behind him.

“Is your back okay?”

“I’ll live.”

Bruce nodded to Clint. Clint turned to hug Bucky instead, burying his face in his neck with a heavy exhale.

*

The balcony door in the Stark penthouse’s living room blew open. Spiderman swung inside and took a few steps as he landed with his hands braced on his legs, doubled-over, head hanging and chest heaving.

It was dark and still, inside and out. The night cloudy and moonless, the house unlit other than the eerie glow of the displays from the multitudes of technology embedded and placed around the home. It was half-past three in the morning.

Steve wordlessly switched on the under-cabinet lights in the kitchen, startling Peter.

“Oh, hey. Hey, um, I didn’t know you… I thought you’d be sleeping, or—”

_Hoping I was, maybe_, Steve thought. It was a game they’d been playing for over a week, delicately skirting around each other like they were IEDs instead of people.

“Too used to company in bed, I guess. Had a late emergency conference call with some people in Belarus. Kind of just headed for the treadmill after that.”

Steve wore a pair of mesh shorts and some sneakers, his chest bare, since he’d been alone, just using Tony’s private gym down the hall.

Peter swung the door shut against the cool, gusty air blowing in. A blustery storm gathered off to the west as a cold front collided with the heavy heat wave they’d been stuck with for weeks.

Steve walked slowly but steadily up to him, following intuition, mostly. But also fighting it. How much of this was logic? How much passion? How much love? Love for who? Tony, self, Peter, or all of them at once?

“You don’t,” Peter swallowed thickly, still out of breath, his voice strained, “You don’t have to stick around if you’ve got better, uh, better things to do. It’s late.”

“It is,” Steve agreed.

Finally, Peter straightened, face completely covered with his mask. He made no move show himself. Maybe he felt too much like Steve was just another enemy to fight, and the suit gave him courage. So Steve pulled the mask off instead, without warning, revealing Peter’s shocked face.

His lip was split and bloody. There was a bad scrape on one cheekbone. His eyes were red like he’d been crying. Fatigue weighed him down.

“How bad?” Steve asked, gently.

“It’s not,” Peter started and stopped, “It’s nothing. I’m fine. I got the guns away from them, but someone picked up a metal pipe and hit me across the head from behind, and when I fell they all just started to, to, um…”

Steve hooked a bent finger under Peter’s chin, tipping it up. “FRIDAY, lights please.”

Peter winced, squinting against the glare as lights bloomed around them. Steve carefully prodded Peter’s swollen lip, tilted his face to check out the scrape. “I’ll help you clean this up, okay?”

“Don’t. Please? Please don’t?” His voice caught and broke around his desperation, pride, and terror. Tears slipped down his cheeks. His gaze darted around the vast, empty space, and Steve understood. Of course he did. The one person magic made them crave was gone. And yet. Something else, maybe something deeper, warred with it, drawing them to each other at the same time. “I’m not broken, okay? I’m not! I can do this. I can do this without him. I did it for months. And I don’t need… I don’t—”

“I know,” Steve cut in. They were each supposed to face their battles alone. It was part of the deal. Everyone seemed to expect it, which meant they all grew to expect it of themselves, even when they were actually part of a team. The message remained: save the world, and keep yourself together without help. What good were they to anyone else if they couldn’t maintain balance in their own private world?

What none of them talked about, or at least what they tried to avoid, was that self-care was where they were each lacking the most. It was easy to care for others in need. Much harder to recognize signs of distress from within, and know exactly what to do about them, especially when the fix required confessing weakness.

The youngest of them with the most to prove, Peter fought harder than anyone Steve had ever met—short of himself—at proving he was capable and his obvious vulnerabilities had no power over him.

He let the moment breathe, listening to Peter’s jagged breaths and swallowed whimpers as he folded in on himself, head bowed though Steve’s thumb continued to brush under the pouting curve of his lower lip. “Take this off,” he said, running a hand down the arm of his suit.

Peter didn’t move, or pull away, or say a word. He stayed there, letting Steve be in his space, intimately brushing under the curve of his lip while he frowned and sniffed, trembling now.

So Steve hit the release trigger on the drone in the center of Peter’s chest and the suit fell away. Now standing only in his underwear, Peter froze in shock.

“I live with Iron Man,” Steve told him, low and quiet. “I know how to get someone stubborn out of a suit.”

There were ugly bruises along Peter’s ribs and thighs, but no other cuts.

“FRIDAY, any internal injuries I should know about?”

“No internal injuries detected, Sir,” the AI replied a moment later.

Steve backed off a few steps and sank down on the couch.

“C’mere.”

Peter twisted away, hugging himself and shaking in the emptiness.

“I know this is about him,” Steve said, his deep voice filling the silence, “but it’s also not about him at all. I’m just asking, for right now, let this just be you and me. So, c’mere. When you’re ready.”

Peter hesitated for a few solid minutes, then covered his face with his hands, sucked in a breath and held it. When he let it out, it was a wail of despair. Without even looking, he turned and came to Steve, who reached out, took hold of him and guided Peter down to straddle him, facing him.

With a heavy sigh, he drew Peter in flush to his body, gathering him as close as he could get, wrapping him in a complete embrace with a hand cradling the back of Peter’s head and one on his bare back. Peter had his hands on Steve’s sides, grasping, his face nuzzling Steve’s neck. He was tensed, legs and feet flexed, shoulders high. But as they sat there like that, with Steve brushing repeatedly through Peter’s soft hair, lips pressed to his neck, hand caressing his skin, the more he melted into contact. He wound his arms more completely around Steve and his small whimpers continued but softened. Tears still dripped once in a while on Steve’s skin, but when Peter laid his head on Steve’s shoulder, his breath was hot and evened out.

“Sleepy?” Steve asked.

“Not even a little.”

“Sore?”

“I’ve had worse.”

“Yeah. I guess you have.”

Steve felt Peter’s hand move, the fingertips skimming over Steve’s skin as if mapping paths across it. The paths snaked over the swell of his chest, along the line of his collarbone, up to the edge of his jaw, tracing it. Steve played with the hairs at the nape of Peter’s neck, causing him to shiver.

Peter seemed to realize Steve wasn’t going to be the one to take them over the next line and sat up, facing him more directly, their mouths barely an inch apart. Steve gingerly touched the cut on Peter’s lip, but it seemed mostly healed, though the blood lingered.

He brushed Peter’s tears away with the pads of his thumbs, frowning with worry at the dark circles beneath his hazel eyes. Just another sign he’d been pushing too much, for too long.

Frowning heavily, Peter shifted, rolling his hips forward almost without conscious thought, like momentum drove the act rather than choice. One hand braced on Steve’s chest and the other clasped Steve’s jaw. The movement of his hips pressed the thick line of Peter’s erection right against Steve’s abdomen. Rife with humiliation but unable to pull himself away from offered comfort, Peter ducked his face to hide it against the other side of Steve’s jaw.

“It’s okay,” Steve hushed. “You’re not alone anymore.”

Caressing up Peter’s thigh, fingertips skimming along the edge of his boxers which were pulled up tight and high because of how he was sitting, Steve felt the flex of powerful muscle under the soft dusting of hair over warm, soft skin. All of him was so soft, everywhere. Steve’s hand moved up Peter’s side, down his bare stomach, the muscles bunched. When the touch stopped short of going lower, Peter made a small keening sound and shuddered. With both hands, Steve brushed back up Peter’s abs to his chest, the pads of his thumbs rolling over stiffened nipples before his hands curled up over the backs of Peter’s shoulders from under his arms.

“You don’t have to,” Steve told him. “We can just sit here like this.”

Jittery and hot like there was a furnace inside him turned up to its highest setting, Peter still fought it a little longer, but then his lips were there again, barely brushing Steve’s, his mouth open around heavy breaths, tongue thrust forward. It was absolutely nothing for Steve to angle his head, lick hard over the bloody lip to taste the coppery tang of it, and get inside him, a hand cradling the back of Peter’s head to keep him there.

Peter moaned and stayed open, yielding to it.

Steve explored every inch of him, claiming it all, taking him using lips, teeth, and tongue. It wasn’t gentle or patient, and Peter made little gasping cries that sounded hurt, but whenever Steve started to pull back, Peter bit at him and chased in for more.

Holding on, though he really didn’t need to with the way Peter clung to him, Steve shifted them so Peter laid on his back along the couch with Steve on top pressing down. It made it easier to trap him against the cushions, opening him even wider to suck his tongue and lick back into him over and over again.

Eventually, Steve came up for air. Peter sobbed, “No,” and tried to chase him again, one leg hooking up around Steve’s lower back. Both of Steve’s hands had pinned Peter’s wrists to the couch above his head.

“_God_, I need you,” Steve sighed. “It’s time.”

“I… I’m sweaty and… I should shower.”

“I’m not afraid to get dirty.”

“Promise?”

“Hell yeah, that’s a fucking promise,” Steve moaned, going right back in for more.

*

The journey from the couch to the bedroom was uneventful. Peter stayed attached. Steve palmed the lube from a drawer on the way to the bed.

“FRIDAY, lights please,” Steve asked.

“No, don’t put the lights on,” Peter complained as they sank to the bed and the lights came up, their positions not changing much at all otherwise. Steve’s hand palmed Peter’s ass and Peter held on for dear life.

“I like seeing you.”

“I like seeing you too, but I don’t like you seeing _me_.”

“So that’s how it is, huh? How long are you planning to be shy with me?”

“Couple of centuries.”

“Oh, is that all?”

Peter’s cock nudged Steve’s stomach, the end wet as he gave the slightest little pushes against him. Each time he did, he made the softest breathy whimper right by Steve’s ear. It was driving Steve absolutely out of his mind. What little control he had to hold back was fading way too fast, because he knew he had to ease Peter into this.

“FRIDAY, take the lights down halfway, please.”

The compromise eased some of the tension in Peter’s body. “Thanks.”

Steve hooked his fingers in the back of the waistband of Peter’s boxers. “Can I take these off?”

Peter let out a hopeless groan, “This is it. This is how I die.”

Grinning despite himself, then unable to hold back all of the chuckle that followed, mostly due to the absolute sincerity of Peter’s lament, Steve cleared his throat and promised, “I’m pretty sure you can’t actually die from embarrassment, Pete.”

“But how can you _know_? My biology is different.”

“Oh yeah? So you get the super strength and the spidey senses and the, uh, stickiness, but—”

“Don’t say it like that,” he protested, echoing in disapproval, “_the_ _stickiness_.”

“Pete, you’re about to be a hell of a lot stickier when I’m done with you.”

“Oh god, he actually said it.”

“Do you really believe your superpowers came with a side of mortal vulnerability to shame?”

“Hey, you don’t know my life.”

“You know, I think it’s my duty as someone who cares about you to test your theory. For science.” It was nothing at all to tighten his grip of the waistband and rip the boxers off. Peter sat back far enough to gape at him.

“You have _got_ to stop tearing people’s clothes off,” Peter scolded.

“Tony told you about that, huh?” Steve bit his lip introspectively. “Bet he’s still mad about that t-shirt.”

“It was vintage.”

“Trying to distract me from the fact that you’re naked now?”

“Stop noticing things. God.”

Smile lingering at the corners of his mouth, Steve prayed Peter would stay this relaxed. He’d made progress—talking, then joking, now eye contact. They were headed in the right direction.

Now to test the waters.

“You remember the safe words, right?” Steve asked.

Peter nodded.

“What color are you at right now?”

“Um, green.”

“Is touching okay?”

Peter nodded again.

“Can you say it for me? Please?”

When Peter tried to pull back in to hide, Steve caught him by the jaw, holding him there but caressing with his thumb along the edge.

Eyes closed, Peter said, “Yeah. Pretty sure we’re already touching though.”

“Yeah but there’s holding you on my lap, and there’s…” he rubbed up Peter’s firm thigh to the thick curve of his ass. Grabbing a handful of his left cheek and squeezing, Steve pulled him open to brush his fingers through the crease. At the same time, the other hand pushed up the other thigh, forcing itself between their bodies, shifting Peter back an inch or two and tightly wrapping his rigid, dripping cock to stroke slowly up to the tip.

Frowning, mouth fallen open, lower lip quivering, Peter bowed his head and whined sharply. “I can’t…”

“Can’t what?” Steve asked softly, relaxing his grip to caress rather than tug, the fingers of his left tracing the clenched, small pucker as Peter shuddered, thrust, then pressed back into the touch. His breathing suddenly grew rough and shallow. Peter’s increased sensitivity definitely amped up the effects of stimulation.

Steve pressed a fingertip, dry, through the rim. Flushing red, Peter grunted, quaked, tried to thrust against Steve’s hand barely petting his cock, but Steve held him down, his hand shifting to hook around the junction of Peter’s thigh and pelvis. Steve leaned in and scraped his teeth against Peter’s neck. The next cry Peter made did indeed sound like he’d been mortally wounded.

“Color?”

“Green.”

By his ear, Steve whispered, “Kind of determined to hear you say my name, by the way. You still call me Captain Rogers in your head, don’t you?”

“Doesn’t count as long as I don’t say it out loud,” Peter panted. Steve pressed the fingertip deeper and Peter yelled a colorful curse. Trying to rear up, he was pulled back down and onto the finger by the grip on his hip. His cock twitched, leaking. Steve caressed Peter’s stretched rim with his thumb and caught his mouth in a rough kiss. Steve pulled away fractionally, just to hear Peter’s cry as he forced the rest of the finger inside.

“Burns?”

“Yeah,” he whimpered. He kept trying to thrust, the tip of his weeping cock barely brushing Steve’s abdomen, fighting the hold on his hip hard enough to leave quite a bruise. Still, his cock strained as if he was about to come. “Please, I’m gonna…”

“Not if I don’t want you to,” Steve told him, shifting to grip the base of Peter’s cock to cut off his orgasm. Peter cursed and fought it, convulsing. “I like the please, though. Good things come to those who wait. We’re gonna work on that. You trust me?”

“Yeah,” Peter complained. Steve slowly withdrew the finger, making Peter startle and beg, “Please.” He had his fingers in the short hair at the back of Steve’s head, his other hand squeezing Steve’s pectoral muscle. That was going to bruise too, but fuck if Steve cared.

He got the lube open with one hand, squeezed plenty on his fingers and reached back to press one inside. Peter gasped at the cold, moaning thickly as Steve began pumping it in increasingly longer strokes. With his hardest shudder yet, Peter buckled, coming forward to rest his forehead against Steve’s shoulder as he struggled to breathe.

“I _know_ you’re not a virgin,” Steve said, “but you sure as hell feel like one.” Peter’s ass gripped the finger tight, barely loosening at all. The hot, soft muscle hugged him, though Peter wasn’t even clenched up anymore. Steve pulled out, pressed two in instead, having to force them through. The pain made Peter buck, pre-come seeping from his slit. Steve scissored the fingers apart and Peter bit him sharply, growling, as Steve held him down to take it. He started to finger-fuck him quicker, harder. Peter reached for his own cock, tugging it and wailing when Steve’s grip on the root just tightened. He kept playing with himself anyway, pushing back onto the fingers, rubbing his forehead against Steve’s body. The soft begging sounds he made were exquisite, Tony’s new obsession with them completely understandable.

“Why’re you so shy with me when it comes to sex?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do.”

“Tony’s… the spell, it… it’s different.”

“You weren’t a virgin with Tony. How about the guys before him?”

“I didn’t… didn’t care about them.”

“I care about you too, you know.”

Then Peter’s mouth was on him, his tongue in him, his fist jacking his own cock desperately. So Steve let go and Peter yelled as he climaxed, hot jets of come striping up his chest to the underside of his chin, his ass clenched tight around the fingers buried in it.

Stroking through the come covering Peter’s body, Steve moaned, clasping a hand lightly around Peter’s throat as they kissed each other dizzy.

Steve gave him a third finger as the aftershocks faded. Before long, Peter was humping them, bouncing a little, his parted lips hovering by Steve’s mouth as he held Steve’s jaw. “Don’t you dare be gentle,” Peter warned.

“I don’t know if my cock will even fit in you,” Steve breathed, throbbing and aching to get inside, and get relief. Peter’s wanton bouncing on his lap was only tormenting him more.

“I’m not fragile.”

“Good, cause I’m about to do some _terrible_ things to you.”

“Fuck yeah,” Peter sighed. “Come on. Please. _Please_, Steve?”

That did it. Steve flipped them, manhandling Peter so he was on his knees and elbows, ass high, up by the headboard, with Steve kneeling between his thighs. He nudged Peter’s knees wider—as wide as they’d go, spreading him out, his cock already hard again and dangling between his legs, sac drawn up tight. Steve spread more lube into and around Peter’s hole, wondering if he was imagining it tightening up again already.

He lined up.

“Brace,” Steve warned. Peter grabbed the headboard. “Both hands.”

As soon as Peter had hold of it, his head low, panting, Steve fed the head through, watching it pop through the rim.

Peter screamed. His whole body tensed and his grip was white-knuckled as Steve kept hold of him by the hips, drawing him back while pressing in, going slow. Sweating and quivering as Steve stuffed him full, Peter didn’t quiet at all even when he finally bottomed out.

Folding over him, Steve stroked Peter’s still-hard cock and pressed kisses along his neck and face. Peter’s screams turned to forceful growls, his face red, body tight everywhere. He somehow got tighter around Steve’s cock, almost pushing him out as he clenched with his second orgasm, sobbing through it. Hand coated in come, Steve stroked him until he calmed, then spared a moment to suck the taste of Peter from his fingers.

“Color?”

“Green.”

“Ready?”

Peter whimpered and nodded, literally bracing himself again.

Pulling back, watching Peter’s stretched-wide hole expel the dark, wet, thick shaft, seeing it swell a little and redden around it, Steve felt more of his control slipping, the hunger taking over. There was so, so much of it. He started shallow and careful, and Peter yelled the whole time, but quickly Steve was taking him hard and deep. Using every bit of his super strength, Peter held on, half-collapsed on the bed, tears streaming down his strangely peaceful face.

When the thrusts started jolting Peter forward, Steve held him down to take it, beating Peter’s ass with his hips and pounding his swollen hole harder than he ever would have dreamed doing to anyone else. His own cries were desperate, scraped raw. Teeth bared and body flexed, he poured all of his pent-up need into the most brutal sex of his life. When he came, he started to black out and fought to cling to awareness.

Pumping shallowly inside Peter, the sound of it wetter now, more obscene, Steve looked him over.

He was flushed pink everywhere, completely red in others. Dark bruises stood out on his hips and the back of his neck where Steve had grabbed him toward the end. He could feel the heavy throb of Peter’s pulse in his abused sphincter. Face hidden and pressed to the bed, Peter was quiet, his chest barely expanding with breath. Steve flooded with worry.

Pulling out too fast, rolling Peter over to his back, Steve took in the sight of him, eyes barely opened, mouth working around small gulps of air, hair dark and stuck in wet curls to his face. He was wrecked. Steve brushed his hair back, laid a gentle hand on Peter’s chest to feel his heartbeat.

“Hey, beautiful,” Steve said.

He bent to press a soft kiss to the corner of Peter’s mouth, and heard the faintest, “Hold me?” Gathering Peter up, Steve laid him down and arranged Peter on top of him. His arms and legs drew up to envelop Steve, then hung there limply, fingers loosely curled on the bed. Steve encircled him and couldn’t stop kissing the top of his head.

“You okay?” Steve ventured.

“Mmm.”

In moments, Peter drifted peacefully to sleep. Steve followed soon after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Steve and Peter’s new normal, and the aftermath…
> 
> Chapter 5 will be posted Thursday! Thanks for reading <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Very brief, non-specific memory of torture.
> 
> This is the longest chapter and also quite a favorite, with plenty of sweetness, sex, romance and drama. Enjoy :)

Another piece of Steve’s heart was stolen away upon waking. The clock said it was noon, but the tint on the windows was doing its job to keep all light out. Peter still lay on Steve, barely having shifted at all, and was asleep, but dreaming. His cock was hard and he was rutting gently against Steve’s abdomen with quiet moans.

Steve smiled, knowing it was a good sign.

He combed his fingers lightly through Peter’s hair, breathing in deeply the rich, heady scent of him, leaving his hand resting in the graceful curve of Peter’s lower back. Peter’s thrusts grew more pointed, trembling, and he came with a sigh, warmth pooling between them.

Fifteen minutes later, Peter roused with a raspy, “Why’m I so sticky?”

“So many reasons,” Steve smiled.

Peter startled, tense as a bowstring, possibly wondering why his pillow was talking.

“Hey,” Steve said, caressing Peter’s plump lower lip with the pad of a thumb as his mouth fell open. “Remember me?”

Adorably drowsy and blinking, Peter drew up his legs and groaned. “Yeah, it’s coming back to me now.”

“Go back to sleep,” Steve urged. “You need rest.”

Peter’s hands braced on the bed as he propped himself up a little so he wasn’t completely lying on Steve anymore.

“Really think I should shower. Feels a little more urgent.”

“Then let me help you.”

Peter’s head had been bowed, but he raised it then, one eyebrow lifted as he made brief eye contact.

“I, uh, appreciate the offer, but I’m sensing things need to be… cleaned out, and I won’t survive if you’re there to witness that.”

Peter’s tension visibly eased as Steve dragged his fingertips down the back of his neck and along his spine. He relaxed, his head falling back down to rest against Steve’s bare chest. With his other hand, Steve brushed the hair back from Peter’s face, just drinking in the sight of him totally disarmed and content.

When Peter hummed a little with pleasure, his eyes closed. Shivering slightly, he caressed along Steve’s sides. Steve just wanted to hold him like that all day long, keeping him where he knew Peter would be safe and cared for.

That was, as long as Peter truly did feel safe with Steve.

“How are you feeling?” Steve ventured softly. “It got pretty intense. Was it _too_ intense?”

“No, are you kidding?” There was a pause as he shifted so that he was basically speaking into Steve’s sternum, chin braced on Steve’s chest. His eyes remained closed as Steve carded through Peter’s hair. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve felt this… relaxed? It was perfect. I don’t think anyone else on the planet could make me feel what you did. It was equal parts safe and dangerous, in the best way. I don’t know. I just feel…. Lucky? That I finally get to have that with someone I trust, without hurting anyone else? It’s awesome.”

“Yeah, but I feel like I hurt _you_,” Steve countered. “How sore are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Fine, huh?”

Steve reached to gently prod Peter’s rim. “Swelling’s down. That’s good. But, wait. Is it normal for you to still be swollen this many hours after sex?”

“All due respect, but Captain Rogers, if you keep fingering my asshole, there will be some consequences.”

Steve froze. “What kind? ‘Please stop’ consequences or ‘please don’t stop’ consequences?”

Peter’s reply was to lift his head and make heated eye contact, glancing between Steve’s eyes before letting his gaze fall to Steve’s lips. He surged forward a few inches and kissed him, frowning. His hand kneaded Steve’s pectoral muscle, thumb brushing over the nipple, hips rocking forward the slightest bit as his cock began to stir, thrusting it against Steve’s hip.

Breaking away before Steve wanted him to, Peter nuzzled against him. Was it more shyness? Confusion? Doubt? Affection? It was hard to tell. Head spinning, lust blooming, Steve tried to push his growing want back down and stay focused.

Peter asked, his breath hot against Steve’s skin, “Are you saying this is my life now? That you’re just gonna finger me whenever you want? Like my ass belongs to you now?”

“It’s your call but I’m not opposed to any of that.”

Teeth scraping against Steve’s neck, hands grasping tightly, almost possessively, Peter let out a small moan. He seemed to try to collect himself, drawing away, saying, “Okay, um…”

He struggled to get up, muttering, “Bathroom. Shower, cold water, sanity, maybe coffee…” But when he shifted off of Steve, bent, and moved to sit up on the edge of the bed, he shrieked in agony. Peter rolled to his side, his breath catching.

“Fuck. Hey. Hey.” Horrified, Steve sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed and gathered Peter into his lap. Peter blinked as he teared up, swallowing small grunts.

“No, no, I’m okay,” he protested. “Really. Just surprised me a little. It’s never… it’s never felt that way, after, before.”

Chest aching, gut churning, guilt trying to swallow him whole, Steve said in a rush, “I am so sorry. I went harder with you and I thought it was okay, but clearly it wasn’t, and—”

“No, no, no, no.” He lifted his head to catch Steve’s eye, his gaze steely. “Don’t you dare apologize for any of that. I needed what we did. I still do. I feel better right now than I have in over half a year, and that’s all because of you. But once is nowhere near enough.” He paused to search Steve’s face for understanding before continuing. “I need you to not be scared of touching me or making me sore. I already face that hurdle with Tony because some deep part of him is convinced I’m helpless, and I love him but I’m not. I need you to trust my yes, okay? Sore is what happens after what we did. It’s normal. I told you, I’m not fragile.”

It took Steve’s breath away. He didn’t even know how to respond.

Struggling to his feet, Peter grimaced.

“Peter—”

Steve’s argument was silenced by a sharp glare that made Steve feel better faster than anything else. Peter straightened. Steve skimmed his fingers over fading bruises on Peter’s hips.

“Okay. I’ll trust your yes, no matter what, as long as you swear you’ll tell me the moment something feels wrong or you need help.”

Biting his lip, Peter reached out for him, fingers brushing the hair at Steve’s temple. He nodded.

“I can do that. Yeah. I swear.”

“Then I do too. I trust you. But I still want to take care of you. Let me run you a bath.”

Peter laughed weakly. “Shower first.” He gestured at all of the dried come spread over his middle and chest. “No way I’m stewing in this. There’s dirty, and there’s _dirty_.”

“Then I’m coming in there with you.”

Peter covered his face with his hands and groaned into them, his words consequentially muffled, “Please let me shower in peace. You’re _very_ distracting.”

“If you can walk to the bathroom door without pain, then deal.”

“Dude, come on,” Peter begged. “FRIDAY’s got my back.”

There was a subsequent pause he used to limp away as quickly as he could, which wasn’t very quick at all. He closed and locked the door, like that made any difference to someone with super strength. Steve walked over and sank to the ground by the door, leaning against the wall.

“I know you’re out there listening,” Peter said at normal volume, which Steve could hear clearly. “I know safeguarding is your whole deal, and that you feel bad right now even though you shouldn’t, but seriously, you need to go farther away. Go make breakfast. That’s, um, an order.”

“Nice try.”

“I swear to god.”

“Yeah, well, so do I. One more protest and I’ll come in there and douche you myself, young man.”

“You can’t just _say_ stuff like that. Holy shit.”

He must have understood Steve meant it though, because there were no more protests.

A short while later, Steve heard through the spray of water in the shower, a faint, barely whispered, “If you can hear me, you can come in.”

He stood, opened the door by breaking the lock with a sharp turn of his hand, and walked in. “Thought I was distracting?”

Peter faced the wall, rinsing soap from his body, pushing the water over his skin with slides of his hands. “You’re naked. You’re naked Captain America, and now I know how it feels to have your entire massive cock shoved through my butthole. That’s pretty distracting. And I know you intend to do it again. Probably often. Plus, being near you now does things to me that have nothing to do with my butt at all.”

Steve opened the shower door and stepped in. “And yet, you asked me to come in. What made you change your mind?” He grabbed the soap and began washing quickly off, a plan forming and his impatience growing.

When he stepped further into the spray to rinse, Peter turned, inches from Steve. His pupils were blown wide, his cock hard, cheeks flushed. “I like how you distract me. Please keep doing it.”

“Oh.”

Never had there been a more delicious sight. Steve had no chance to resist. Even the voice in his head telling him to let Peter rest was faded and easily ignored.

Pulling Peter’s slick body against him, palming his ass as their cocks thrust against each other’s bodies, Steve breathed, “God, what are you even doing to me?”

Peter’s hands and mouth were on him, taking, hungry. He sucked at Steve’s nipple, then bit down on it while wrapping a hand around Steve’s cock and stroking. “I need to taste it,” Peter decided, falling to his knees.

Screwing his eyes shut, fists pressed against the tile wall, Steve let out a ragged groan as Peter started licking him. The wide flat of his tongue dragged over the slit before he opened to feed Steve in past his lips which puckered around the head as he sucked it, humming. Something deep inside Steve reached up and grabbed, splintering his will, shattering any resistance.

He reached down with one hand to palm the back of Peter’s head and thrust into the perfect tight heat of his sweet mouth. Several inches pushed farther back into him, his breath rushing out through his nose. Steve let him pull back, giving suction and moaning, tongue wrapped tight, before thrusting again, harder.

Peter choked as the head hit the back of his throat, but recovered, breathing rougher as Steve withdrew slightly. Peter leaned into it this time but whimpered as the head pushed deeper, completely filling his throat. Peter let Steve choke him like that for a long, exquisite moment before he pulled back and out.

“More please,” Peter panted.

“Fuck.” With a wrenching cry, Steve got some kind of mental hold on it all and turned it around.

He pulled Peter to his feet, ignoring the disappointed look on his face. Spinning him to face the wall, Steve sunk to his knees instead. He spread Peter’s cheeks with both hands and licked up the middle.

“Oh shit,” Peter exclaimed, going up on his toes and bracing on the wall. He tried to clench, but Steve easily kept him pulled open. Steve dragged Peter’s hips back and licked up over his hole, circled around it, then pointed his tongue to press inside. Peter made a wild cry, his voice breaking apart as Steve began to tongue-fuck him.

When he dropped a hand to stroke himself, Steve hummed, sucking on Peter’s swollen hole, going a little longer before pulling out and replacing the tongue with a finger that curled and rubbed hard over his prostate. Peter shouted, knees almost giving out.

“Bed,” Steve decided, pausing long enough to bite down on Peter’s ass cheek.

“Aaah! Fuck! You bit me!”

“Yeah, and you liked it,” Steve said, turning off the water and throwing Peter over a shoulder.

“That’s not the point!” Peter complained, the protest voiced from where he hung by the middle of Steve’s back.

Seconds later he threw Peter down on the end of the bed and pressed his thighs apart to expose him, sinking to his knees. Lips hovering by Peter’s cock as he stroked it, Steve asked, “Tell me to fuck off and draw you a bath.”

“Yeah right,” Peter laughed.

Steve swallowed him to the root, cheeks hollowed as he sucked as hard as he could. Peter let out a bright scream and Steve began to sense a trend. Curling forward, coming right off the bed, Peter arranged his legs over Steve’s shoulders and held onto Steve’s head with both hands, effectively wrapping himself around him. Hand locked down hard in a tight squeeze around Peter’s root to stave off orgasm, Steve’s mouth sank down then sucked as he pulled back, setting a slow pace. He drew it out as Peter shouted his head off, his voice growing more ragged and broken as it gave out. When Peter’s trembling intensified, Steve released his grip and hummed, swallowing down the salty taste of Peter’s load of come. He twisted two saliva-slick fingers through Peter’s opening, working them in and out.

“Peter,” Steve begged. “Tell me you don’t want it. Tell me it hurts.”

“No, please don’t stop. I need you so bad,” Peter rasped, brow furrowed, his voice cracked apart and hushed. He raked his fingers back through Steve’s hair, pulling him in. Complying, Steve licked Peter’s softened cock as it hardened again. “Please, Steve? Please? I need to feel you in me. It helps. It feels so good. Doesn’t it feel good?”

He pressed three fingers in and licked around them, rolling Peter’s balls with his free hand. In moments, Peter was a panting, writhing mess, past words, delirious. He arched, caressing Steve’s head as he rolled his hips and worked himself on the fingers.

Withdrawing, Steve lunged for the lube that was still on the bed from the night before, spread plenty on himself, and climbing onto the bed. He hooked Peter’s legs over his shoulders, folding him in half. He touched the head of his cock to Peter’s swollen rim and warned, “This’ll hurt.”

“Good,” Peter sighed.

His shout shredded to pieces as he was entered. Steve went slow, letting Peter’s inner muscles pull him in, but felt Peter’s hands scrambling against him, leaving scratches and almost drawing blood. Peter arched and fought it, his mouth latching onto Steve’s skin. Steve felt Peter’s pulse pounding away through every place they touched, but the burning hot, velvety softness of the inside of him drove Steve out of his mind. He wrapped his arms around Peter, kissing along his jaw to his throat, sucking bruises as he moved and rocked. Peter pushed down into the thrusts, riding him, panting in his worn-out rasp, “Harder. You’ve gotta… harder. More…”

Steve sat up, guided Peter’s legs farther back, as far as they’d go, pinned them together at the ankles and fucked him hard and deep.

Everything fell away except that. He didn’t know how long it went on. He felt himself holding back from orgasm, wanting it to last as long as it could. When Peter came, it was an extra tightness wringing sharp cries from Steve, who clenched his jaw and quickened his pace even more.

Climaxing hard enough to have his vision white out, shuddering, and panting as everything exploded inside him, he fell forward.

They were a tangle of limbs and sweaty skin.

Peter rolled them to their sides, facing each other, and held Steve in a tight hug until his senses returned, peppering feather-light kisses all over his lips, his closed eyes, the tip of his nose, and the center of his forehead.

“Tony’s gonna fucking murder me,” Steve realized.

Kissed quiet, Steve surrendered as Peter next claimed his mouth. It was deep, slow, endless. He drank down every drag of Peter’s lips, every tease of his tongue. Shivers reached from the top of Steve’s head to the bottom of his feet. It was bliss. It was everything. It was so good, it scared him half to death.

He gathered Peter’s slim, exhausted body against him, knowing how precious he was. There were already undeniable feelings there for him that Steve couldn’t and wouldn’t ignore. Yet, Steve had just hurt him again, intentionally, and he didn’t know how to apologize for it or make his peace with it when all he wanted was to do it again. He couldn’t reconcile caring about Peter while causing his anguish.

Peter caught and held his gaze, his voice paper-thin and barely audible as he mouthed, “You make me so happy.”

It squeezed Steve’s heart until he could feel it breaking. Peter held onto him and kept kissing the pain away.

*

“Sir, video call from Tony Stark.”

“Motherfucker,” Steve breathed, bracing hands on the kitchen counter and hanging his head. “_Amazing _timing.”

He let out a panicked groan and wiped his hands over his face. “Yeah, okay. Put him on.”

“Long time no see,” Tony commented, appearing as a hologram.

“Yeah, how’s it going?” Steve asked, forcing a smile.

Right away, no hesitation, he heard, “Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Fuck, Tony,” Steve breathed, absolutely hating how smart Tony was, and not for the first time. “No. It’s nothing. We’re good.”

“Okay, you’re actually scaring me now. What is this? That was almost a lie and you don’t ever lie, right, Rogers?”

“Not lying.”

“You look like shit. What— Is that a bite mark? You don’t even bruise and you have a bite mark on your neck.”

“Vampires?” Steve tried, covering the mark with a hand. “I don’t know. I don’t even know when he bit me. I didn’t even feel it.”

Silence from Tony’s end. His expression was terrifying.

Then, too softly, “What happened?”

“Come on, you know what happened. This was the whole point. Get us alone. Give you a break. Work to focus on.”

“So you’re telling me the bite mark that broke skin means you two have been gently making love to each other? I want to see him. Now.”

“He’s resting.”

Tony laughed, and the sound of it chilled Steve to the bone. “Okay, just so you know, this is me calculating how fast I can make it back to New York in the suit, which gives you a little time to run, but, you know, not much.”

“Fine. Fine, I’ll put him on.”

Steve closed the holo and growled, “Fuck!”

With a steadying breath, he walked to the bedroom. Lying in bed on his side, Peter was wide-eyed, his mouth pressed in a tight line.

“You ready for this?” Steve asked.

Peter nodded.

“Okay, put him through,” Steve told FRIDAY.

The holo appeared and Tony didn’t even speak. He just took in the sight of Peter lying naked in bed, covered in bruises and scratches, the sheet pulled up to past his navel. Sleepy but smiling widely, Peter made his hands into a heart shape and blew him a kiss.

“Hey kiddo,” Tony sighed, his voice thick. “So damn good to see you.”

“I miss you,” Peter said, his voice a beaten-thin whisper of sound.

Steve watched Tony get upset and try to control it. Tony opened his mouth to speak a few times and couldn’t even form words. Not a good sign.

“Please,” Tony begged, eyes closed, hands pressed together in prayer, “Please tell me you haven’t lost your voice because you’ve been screaming so much, someone with healing abilities still did that much damage to their vocal cords.”

Peter dropped his gaze.

Yeah, they were fucked.

“It’s four in the afternoon there. And you’re lying in bed. Is this because you can’t sit or stand or walk?”

“Tony, come on,” Steve sighed. “Look at him. Look at his face. At how happy he is. I wasn’t lying when I said we’re good. We got what we needed. We both feel so much better. I would do anything for Peter. He’s one of the most important people in the world to me.” His voice shook as he said, “I care about him too, and I know you love him. I know how protective you are of him, but do you really not trust me with this? After everything?” He took an uneven breath as Peter teared up and looked up at the ceiling. “Because I thought you loved me too.”

Tony ended the call.

*

An hour later, with delivered Chinese food containers spread out all over the bed, Steve lay curled up around Peter, who watched some anime while shoveling noodles into his mouth one-handed with chopsticks, caressing Steve’s back in small arcs with the other.

“Incoming video call from Tony Stark,” FRIDAY announced.

“Put him through,” Steve grumbled without moving.

Peter waved at the holo, beaming. Steve wiped some sauce from Peter’s chin and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“I do love you,” Tony said on a sigh. “And I do trust you. I’m sorry. I freaked out.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“It’s… intensely weird to see you two so cuddly.”

“Yeah, well, get used to it,” Peter rasped. His voice was coming back. A little. Slowly.

He grabbed a piece of chicken with the chopsticks and brought them over to Steve’s lips, waiting for him to open and feeding him the bite.

“Would you look at me? Please?” Tony asked.

It took a moment, but he managed to do it, gathering up all his courage and injured pride.

Tony asked, “Do I need to come home tonight?”

“You’re on a mission. You need to finish it. We’re not in danger.” It came out cold and hard.

“Yeah, but I feel like shit about this and I’m betting you haven’t been this mad at me since the whole Bucky thing.”

Peter set the chopsticks down and turned toward Steve, wriggling down so they were eye level. Then, he kissed the end of his nose before angling his head to kiss his mouth. It started chaste, but as Steve frowned into the contact, it grew passionate.

“We’re okay, Tony,” Peter said, caressing Steve’s cheek. “I’ve got this.”

Steve glanced sideways at the holo, saw Tony with a hand over his mouth.

“Why did you bite Steve?” Tony asked after a long pause.

“He provoked me,” he answered, innocent as could be.

Steve snorted.

“I heard that.”

“Plus, he bit me too.”

“Goddamn it, Peter,” Steve groaned.

“I see no bite marks, and I can see quite a lot, so may I ask _where_ he bit you?”

“Oh, like you haven’t wanted to bite his ass too,” Steve scoffed.

There was a long pause.

“So, Peter, you’re okay?” Tony asked slowly.

“I’m _so _good,” Peter grinned. “Way past okay. I’m phenomenal.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you are,” Tony said fondly.

*

“We should have called ahead. What if they’re banging on the kitchen floor? What if they’re banging right in front of the elevator?”

Bucky shrugged. “Free show?”

“Dude.”

“FRIDAY’ll warn ‘em. Probably.”

“You really want an eyeful of Cap reaming out Spiderkid? I thought Steve was like your brother?”

“Well, I don’t _want _to see it, but I don’t _not _want to see it either.” Bucky caught the look Clint shot him. “What? You’re not curious?”

Touching his own chest, Clint said, “I for one am quite satisfied with my own sex life, thank you very much.”

Bucky gave his shoulder a playful shove, “Shut the fuck up.” Clint went flying into the elevator wall. “Fuck! Sorry!”

Clint just laughed, rubbing his arm and getting back to his feet, the elevator doors opening with a chime. “Figures.”

“What was that bang?” Steve called, rushing over. “Are you two okay?”

“We’re fine,” Bucky told him.

“Yeah, James here just threw me into the wall. No biggie.”

“What?!”

“He’s kidding! It was an accident!”

“Is he kidding or was it an accident,” Steve frowned.

Properly mortified, Bucky scrunched his face adorably and hung his head.

Clint clapped him on the back, smiling, “Big guy doesn’t know his own strength is all. No harm done. So! What’s new? Any, you know, developments? Concerns? Anyone need a medic, or a therapist, or a beer?”

Steve set his hands on his hips, chewing at his lip. “When did Tony call you?”

Playing dumb, which wasn’t that hard unfortunately, Clint blinked, “No idea what you’re talking about. We were in the neighborhood. Thought we’d pop in. Oh my god, I just realized he’s not even old enough to drink beer. Jesus, Steve.”

Bucky glared over at him like another playful shove was imminent. “Ignore him. How are you?”

Undeterred, being Captain America and all the pig-headedness that entailed, Steve pressed, “He sounded better on the call the last time, but he still sent you two to check on us?”

“He just thought it might help if people who’ve been through this gave you guys a chance to talk,” Bucky explained. “If you want. No pressure.” A pause. “Is that? Is that a bite mark?”

Steve groaned, head fallen back. “Oh my god.” He covered the mark with a hand, noticing Clint going up on his toes to peer around the room. “He’s over there,” Steve thumbed. “Go on.”

As Clint walked away, he heard Steve grumble, “Guess I should be glad he didn’t call Bruce.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Bucky laughed.

Peter was lying on a couch, watching a crazy cat video compilation on the huge TV and sipping a steaming mug of something.

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” Peter said hoarsely, his voice cracking and softening to the level of a raspy whisper. “Well, stupid question I guess. Tony’s worried. So he probably called you, and that’s okay. It must be really hard for him to be so far away and not be able to check in on us for almost a whole other week.”

Clint climbed up into a chair next to the couch, sitting up on the back of it with his feet on the cushion, elbows on his knees, hands clasped and pressed to his lips as he squinted down at the child.

Peter rolled his eyes and sighed, “Yeah, go on.”

“I’ll just verbalize it, I guess. So you don’t get laryngitis or chest colds, and from what Tony said you’ve been here for several hours at least if not the better part of a day, so no one’s been repeatedly punching you in the throat or something, which leaves… less pleasant options.”

“Hey, it was _way_ more pleasant than getting punched in the throat,” Peter said defensively.

“You know this is why he called us, right?”

“Yeah,” Peter lamented.

“I mean, you know how crazy Tony gets about your safety, and… whatever the actual hell Steve did to you made you scream this much? I mean, I’m astonished at Tony’s maturity level, really. He must really love Steve.”

They fell quiet as Steve passed with Bucky, a hand on Bucky’s back to guide him as Bucky frowned severely, glancing between Peter and Steve as they went. After they went out on the balcony with a pair of beers, the door swung shut firmly behind them. As soon as it did, Bucky started to yell at Steve, which made Clint smirk.

“God, I hate the enhanced hearing thing sometimes,” Peter groaned.

“Yeah, it’s not a favorite,” Clint allowed. He took a breath. “Are you okay? What did he do to you?”

“You really want to know?”

“Who else are you gonna tell? Aunt May?”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Peter warned, fierce as a Pomeranian. “She doesn’t even know about Eros or the spell, let alone that I’m in a relationship with both Iron Man and Captain America.”

“Excuse me?” Clint blinked.

“Why would you think I’d tell her that? Ever? In life?”

“She’s family!”

“Yeah, but I’m an adult and this is my sex life we’re talking about!”

“Okay, let’s steer this ship back on course,” Clint urged. “What happened? Are you hurt in any other way than the voice? I’m guessing you’re lying down for a reason, since you haven’t moved since we got here?”

Peter let his head fall back on the arm of the couch and proceeded to talk to the ceiling, way, way up there somewhere. “You should know how it is. You don’t even have healing abilities. And Bucky is just as strong as Steve.”

“True. Yeah. Okay. But you do have healing abilities and he still hurt you this much?”

“He didn’t hurt me!”

“Pete, do _not_ bullshit me. I’m not gonna tell on you. I’m here to help. That’s all.” Peter held back, so Clint urged, “Come on. Give it to me straight. I can take it. I’ve been on your side the whole time with this. The _only one_ who was. Am I lying?”

“No,” he sighed. “It’s just…”

“What?”

“I guess we’ve been holding back. A lot. With Tony. For obvious reasons. For a long, long time. And _finally_ we didn’t have to hold anything back. At all. I wanted him to be rough. I liked it. Tony… he’s amazing at sex, but he is still always protective, because he’s Tony. Even when he’s rough, he’s not that rough. Which is fine, except…”

“Yeah, I know,” Clint sighed. “It builds up.”

“Yes! Thank you. Tony doesn’t get that, because he wasn’t hit like we were. He thinks we should be able to control it, or that it’s not that strong. I don’t know how much of this you want to hear, but I’ve seen him with Steve. And Steve is like an animal with him, but that’s _still_ holding back. A lot. Think of how much Steve has to be in control all the time with work. Constantly. In every way. He’s done some edgier stuff with Tony that I don’t love the idea of, because Tony doesn’t have powers to keep him going. But Steve needed it to blow off steam. Now, he has me. He can let it all go. He can stop holding back. It’s good. It’s healthy.”

“And what about you, huh?”

“Yeah, what about me? You know how hard it’s been. I didn’t even have Tony for half a year! I had no one. Sex workers. Grindr hookups. I was celibate for four months because I figured having nothing was better than _that_. That first time with Tony was incredible. It really was. But Tony was exhausted, after. So I held back. I didn’t push for more than I thought he could give. And it built up. Do you know how good I feel right now? It isn’t pressing down on me. I can think clearly. I’m not distracted. I’m happy. Especially because I know Steve will be there to take care of me when I need him to.”

“Not if Tony kills him first,” Clint murmured. “You trust him? Steve?”

“Of course. Completely. No question.”

“And you know how scary this stuff is for anyone on the outside of it? It looks like we take it too far. That we’re hurting each other. That we don’t want it even when we’re begging for it, because they wonder if it’s mind control and not consent. Do you even know how many times Hulk yanked me out of Bucky’s arms in the middle of the night, because Bruce was lying in his bed trying to sleep, or working late, just thinking about what Bucky was doing to me and got so upset about it, _that_ happened?”

“Yeah, I know,” Peter allowed.

“You really bit him hard enough to draw blood?”

“He bit me too! He had it coming!”

“Wow. Someone’s feisty.”

“Well, if you could have seen what he was doing to me at the time, you would have wanted me to bite him too.”

“I bet.”

“So. The screaming.”

Peter sighed heavily. “I guess I’m a screamer.”

“Have you been before, ever?”

“No…” He inhaled and words rushed out, “But you don’t even know. He’s huge, and it’s a lot, and he’s strong enough to hold me down so I can’t even move, and his stamina is insane, and his refractory period, and like I said—pent up. He was going as hard as he could, as long as he could, and there were consequences, but I liked it. Every part. I liked that it hurt. I like that I’m too sore to walk. I like that he makes me feel so much, and he takes really good care of me afterward.” A pause. “What?”

“When you say huge, you mean width, or length, or…?”

“Both. All. Everything. That serum they gave him really did make _everything _bigger.”

“God, poor Tony.”

Peter laughed. “You have no idea.”

“I mean, I know the guy hasn’t ever said no to a challenge, but come on.”

“Tony Stark goes big. In everything in life.”

“You can say that again.” He glanced out through the windows to the balcony. Steve and Bucky were seated in chairs, in close conversation as they drank the beers, the yelling over, it seemed. “What are you gonna do when Tony’s back? And is there to mediate?”

“I mean, he has to go to work sometime? Or maybe he’ll get used to it?”

Clint laughed. “Yeah. Good luck waiting on that one.”

*

The balcony door swung shut, sealing tight, the whoosh of air rushing around them and prohibiting any further eavesdropping on Peter and Clint’s conversation.

“When I said to break him, I didn’t mean actually _break him_, Steve,” Bucky yelled. “Was the bite a defensive maneuver?”

“No!”

“Was he crying?”

“That’s not fair.”

“That’s a _yes_,” Bucky growled. Bad, bad memories flashed—cold and jagged. Held down. The bit in his mouth, clenched between his teeth while he screamed. Pain. So much pain. It overlapped with Peter’s face, his gentle spirit, his small body. And Steve. Steve causing the pain, holding Peter down and—

“Stop. Stop it,” Steve pleaded, grasping Bucky’s shoulder. “I know what you’re doing and I’m asking you to stop. It wasn’t like that. You know about consent. Think about all the times with Clint, when you’ve been apart for a while and it’s intense—”

“I hold back! I hold back so I don’t hurt him like that!”

“Buck—”

“_I hold back_. I make it a mental game instead of purely physical. I get off on the control. Less pressure but more time. That’s why we keep disappearing together for days. You have to _let it_ take days if it’s built up that much. You release the pressure slowly, until it runs out. You don’t fuck him half to death until he can’t move or speak!”

“Okay! Okay. I hear you. I get it.”

“Do you?!”

“I do! Look at me and tell me I’m lying.”

Steve held him by the shoulders, staring hard into his eyes.

“He’s _so young_,” Bucky breathed.

“I know.”

“You have to take care of him. You have to love him. Give him what he needs but _carefully_.”

“I know. Okay.”

“He belongs to Tony first. He always will.”

Steve made a face.

“Hey,” Bucky barked. “You need to _honor_ what he has with Tony. This needs to be equal and respectful. They’re not yours. They belong to themselves. I know that look. I know how you get. You see something you want and you can’t fuckin’ let it go for anything, huh? With serving? With Peggy? With me? With being Captain fuckin’ America? And that? That piece of ass in there? I know you want that. I know you think that’s yours now. But you don’t run this, Rogers. You _participate in it_, with respect.”

Steve shook his head, breathed out a humorless laugh and looked out at the horizon, letting go and picking up his beer to drink it. “And they think _you’re_ the crazy one.”

For a while, they sank and drank, and let the wind blow around them.

“What do you think Clint’s telling him? What are they talking about in there?” Steve asked.

“Honestly?”

“Lay it on me.”

“I’d bet money they’re plotting ways to get in even more trouble.”

Face scrunched, Steve gestured widely, “How?”

“God knows,” Bucky laughed. After a scrutinizing, sideways gaze, Bucky asked, “What about Tony?”

“What about him?”

“Well, you fought, right? Because you did terrible things to someone he loves. And plan to do them some more, pretty much forever.”

“They were not terrible,” Steve murmured in protest.

Bucky shot him a look. “If Tony had walked in on that, tell me he wouldn’t have pulled a weapon on you.”

“Come on, Buck.”

“Just making a point. I get it. I honestly do. And I know you’ll fight to control it more next time, because you’re a good guy and I know you care about Peter. But seriously. What about Tony?”

“Tony trusts me,” Steve said, looking down at his hands as he picked at the edge of the label on the bottle. “I’m doing this for Tony.” Bucky’s gimmie-a-fucking-break expression made him self-correct, “Partially for Tony. We’ll figure it out. I—” He shook his head, swallowed the rest.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

Steve rolled his eyes, “I don’t think he’d have hated watching that, is all.”

Shaking his head, Bucky asked, “Let’s stop giving me reasons to picture it in detail, okay?”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, you can also fuck right off. You and Clint, giving me hell when the pair of you are just as guilty. Like the fucking arrow to the chest didn’t loosen your sexual boundaries a little too.”

“I’m in a polyamorous relationship and fucked an eighteen-year-old perpetual virgin so hard I basically crippled him. No, it had no effect at all.”

“A perpetual what now?”

“Leave it.”

“I asked for less reasons, Steve. Less.”

“Okay, enough about me then. How about you two?”

“What about us?”

“You know. How has it been? Really?”

Bucky stared out at the shape and noise of the city, then held up his ring finger, letting the vibranium glint in the fading sunlight. He watched Steve look at it and laughed. “Wow. You’re actually jealous, aren’t you?”

Steve kept picking at his label, maybe aware it was a sign of anxiety. Maybe not. “So, sunshine and roses, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Buck,” he prodded.

He turned to gaze through the windows, watching Clint perch on the chair. Bucky traced the shape of his face in his mind as he’d done so many times with fingertips and tongue. He thought of how Clint had been before Eros, how independent and utterly carefree, whether he’d just gotten shot, or was fighting aliens or robots with nothing but arrows. He thought about his smile and laugh.

And he thought about how often Clint held him now, crying. How when they were alone the carefree part of him fell away, shed like a layer of skin that had grown too tight. How the independent part was gone. Because someone else—some_thing_ else—had decided for him what he wanted, what he needed, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to change it. How both of them thought all the time now about free will and what it was, what it meant for them. How they’d both sworn, long ago, they’d never be forced into anything ever again and now… now…

“Hey,” Steve frowned, getting right in Bucky’s face, holding it framed in his hands. Bucky tried to pull it all back inside again, expression twisting, eyelashes wet, chest aching. “Hey.”

Steve pulled him, hard, into a hug. Bucky let him.

Then pushed him away, head bowed, hand in his hair.

Steve waited.

It took a while before Bucky said on a gasp with a slight, pained smile, “He’s really scared.” Then shook his head, brow furrowed, pulling it back, trying to, wiping his face dry.

“Just him?”

“We’re not the type to need someone like this. I mean, what if something happens to one of us? Have you thought of that? He gets hurt all the time when he’s out there. Constantly. One bullet in the wrong place and—” He exhaled.

“We’d figure it out. We’d get through it, just like everything else. It’s who we are.”

“Maybe,” Bucky nodded. Letting the unsaid _maybe not_ hanging in the air between them. “You know, I ask myself every day—every single day—helping or hurting? Every fucking day.”

“You really love him, don’t you?” Steve realized.

Looking down at the ring with a smile, eyes still wet, Bucky nodded. He held Steve’s gaze, turned back to the window and finished his beer.

*

Clint didn’t know what Bucky and Steve had talked about out there, but whatever it was had done quite a number on the guy.

He knew the look by now. Knew it well. When Bucky craved. When he had to lock Clint away for a while and get things out in one way or another. Usually it was Clint that instigated, but not always.

Bucky was eternally careful, like he was built out of it, sculpted into human form made up of the essence of control and care combined. There was order, but there was sentiment too. Equal amounts. It’s why he calmed Clint so much, just by being there. Clint had never dreamed of trusting anyone the way he trusted Bucky. He trusted him way more than he trusted himself.

But that night, something else was going on.

It wasn’t the spell. The magic. The lust.

It was like it wasn’t there at all. Like Bucky had figured out how to beat it, once and for all. Like he’d digested it, broke it down into pieces until there was nothing left and everything was so much crisper for it.

He cleared their schedules. He made sure Clint ate a full, healthy, home-cooked meal of chicken and pasta, and drank water to hydrate. After doing what he needed to clean himself out, they got in the tub and Bucky gently scrubbed Clint from head to toe, bristles of the brush scratching as they exfoliated, leaving the skin slightly pink and sensitive. Bucky soaped him up with his hand, stroking the suds over him with kneading glides of his palm and fingers.

By the time they even made it to the bed, Clint was already in sensory overload, feeling everything so keenly he could barely think.

Bucky laid Clint out on top of fresh towels and began to work oil into his skin. The massage drew out for well over an hour before Clint forgot time even existed and totally lost track. When the massage continued inside him, opening him gently while slowly, deliberately milking his prostate, Clint was pushed past words completely and just utterly surrendered himself. Bucky’s lips brushed over his as he moaned, the serenity of perfectly controlled dominance painted over Bucky’s expression.

Arranged on pillows so he was comfortable and didn’t have to hold himself up at all, Clint knew a little of what he was in for. All of his skin was tingling, throbbing, and oversensitive, and he was exhausted already from the physical bombardment of being steadily, completely wrung dry. Completely boneless, capable only of soft moans, he felt Bucky press into him. There was no pain. Not even an ache, and he used enough lube for it to squelch wetly on each push.

But there was a reason for all of that, of course. With James Buchanan Barnes, there was always a reason for everything.

And the reason was: it was nearly endless.

Testing the limits of his own already unnatural stamina, Bucky shuddered and groaned and made the sweetest kind of love to Clint. And it went on and on and on, until all Clint knew was the growing friction of being ridden without pause or finish. The blood had long ago rushed down south to throb in his sphincter and straining cock. His rim swelled the longer it went on, until Bucky finally pulled out to lick over the hot, engorged tissue with heavy groans, stroking Clint’s cock until he seized up with orgasm, but with no come left to shoot.

Sated, delirious, Clint was still not at all surprised when Bucky arranged him again on his side, curled up, and pushed inside once more. Clasping Clint to his chest, pumping within him, holding him as he whimpered and sighed, Bucky continued his mission. Whatever the glorious fuck it was. Hell if Clint knew. He didn’t even know his own name at that point.

Clint passed out, woken unknown hours later to Bucky caressing him. Which of course made Clint hard, which led to Bucky entering him again with a faint, sobbing gasp from Clint. And on it went, until he passed out again, and the cycle continued.

Eons later, Clint found his voice, though not the strength to open his eyes, let alone move anything else.

“What day is it?”

“Mm. Friday.”

“Jesus.”

“Hungry?”

“Yeah, but you’re gonna have to feed me.”

“I can do that.” He heard the smile.

“Pretty fucking pleased with yourself, huh?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Why don’t I even need to pee or anything?”

“I took care of it.”

“You know? I don’t wanna ask, so I’ll just say okay.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t feel as sore as I should, considering.”

“I took care of that too.”

“You’re gonna put your cock in me again soon, aren’t you?”

“If you could see your hole right now, you’d wanna fuck it too.”

“That’s… complicated. No one’s _that_ flexible.” A pause. “Should I send Steve a thank you note? He responsible for this?”

Kisses trailed out along the back of his shoulder and too-gentle fingers fondled at his sac.

“No, this is all you. You and me. I just wanna take care of you. Feel you.”

The bed shifted, the heat at his back drawing lower. Soft hair tickled over his hip. Then lips tickled there instead. A tongue teased his erection. The hot, wet, softness of Bucky’s mouth closed around him as he hummed and sucked. With a pretty embarrassing mewl, Clint could only endure it, one half-hearted thrust convincing him that lying still was a much better plan than moving. Bucky’s mouth slid up and down his shaft. Because they’d grown to know each other very, very well, as Clint grew closer to coming, Bucky knew to pull his lips back to expose his teeth, running the edges lightly up along Clint’s shaft. He closed his hand around Clint’s balls and applied pressure. The added spice sent him racing over the edge, coming over Bucky’s tongue and lips.

Eyes cracked open to see that, and who could blame him, Clint caught Bucky’s gaze as he licked his lips clean.

“I love that I’m yours,” he breathed.

Frowning, Bucky shifted up and kissed him. Clint moaned to taste himself. “What do you need?” Bucky whispered, like he thought he still needed to prove himself somehow. Like he wasn’t perfect. Like he didn’t already own Clint, body, mind, and soul.

“You. Just you. Always you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Tony returns & Clint gets an offer...
> 
> Chapter 6 will be posted Monday! Kudos & comments are love <3


	6. Chapter 6

As soon as Tony was back in New York, Maria Hill dragged him into a debriefing with Natasha and Bucky. For the first time ever, he didn’t even try to get out of it somehow. Just loaded up on coffee and resisted the temptation to wonder what he’d be walking into when he got home. They ordered in food and after a few hours when they started to wrap up, Tony thought of swinging by his workshop to check on a few things before going anywhere near the penthouse. The prospect of time alone to make progress on projects that had been neglected too long appealed more than the alternative. Working out the intricacies of relationship dynamics wasn’t exactly his strong suit.

It had been radio silent for a few days from Steve. Peter had messaged him a few times to ask about things like moving more of his stuff over to the penthouse and out of storage, and where he could set up some study space.

Tony hadn’t even messaged either of them that he was back yet. He’d decided that wasn’t cowardly at all, since he deserved a minute to get his head on straight and decompress before all the tension squashed him flat.

Leaving the debriefing room, Tony found Peter waiting for him out in the hallway.

The kid came at him like a heat-seeking missile, eyes fixed on his target. He wore a hoodie over a t-shirt and jeans and looked… good. His expression bright and happy, he glomped onto Tony in a hug, sighing, “It’s so good to see you. I missed you so much.” He pulled back to look Tony over. “Are you tired? Did you eat? I could go grab you something if you’re in the mood for anything in particular.”

Hill, Romanoff, and Barnes each glanced their way as they dispersed, expressions equally unreadable, though the total lack of glaring was promising.

A number of variables spun out in Tony’s head. He kept a firm grip on Peter’s shoulder, both as a comfort for himself after worrying about the kid for weeks, but also to keep him kind of at arm’s length lest the spell kick in and cause any funny business. He’d heard about some of Clint’s reactions to time away from Bucky and braced for anything.

“You’re quiet, why are you quiet?” Peter whispered.

“I, um…” he glanced around again, but no one was nearby. Hill and Romanoff were speaking farther down the hall, not in hearing distance though Tony didn’t doubt Romanoff’s lip-reading skills. “Elevator,” Tony decided, steering the kid in that direction.

Peter kept side-eyeing him the whole way, chewing at his lip as the first sign of worry set in.

So many variables. He was used to dropping into the middle of chaos, but multitasking, delegating and strategizing in battle was way different than interpersonal relations, which he knew he sucked at.

As the doors to the penthouse’s private elevator slid shut behind them, Tony waited a breath, then said, “FRIDAY, stop the elevator.” To Peter, he said, “Okay, where is he?”

“Who?”

“Santa. Who do you think? Steve. Where is Steve?”

“Oh, he’s out on a call. Something local, I think. He didn’t give me any details before he— Are you okay?”

“Do you know that he’s out on a call, or did he say he was going out on a call?”

Peter looked at him more closely, stepping into Tony’s space and staring into his eyes. “You think he’s avoiding you,” he realized.

“Why are you being like this?”

Peter blinked. “I don’t… Like what?”

“Normal. Calm. Rational.”

“Tony—”

“Did someone tell you I was here? Where I was? Or did you find me somehow? Spidey senses or—”

“Bucky messaged me when he heard about the debriefing. Thought I’d like to see you, so… Tony, are you okay?”

Blowing out a laughing breath, Tony ran a hand through his hair. Hands shifting to his hips, he looked down his nose at the boy. “Why aren’t you all over me right now, huh?”

“Oh, did… I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, I just thought you’d want me to wait until we were alone and you’d had some time to get settled in.”

Barely holding in a hysterical laugh, Tony covered his mouth with a hand.

“What?” Peter stared. He gently folded Tony into another hug, hands pressed to his back and said directly into Tony’s shoulder, “You’re freaking me out.”

“You’re freaking _me _out!”

Peter stepped back without groping him at all, his hazel eyes clear and inquisitive as he held Tony’s face with one hand, “Say something.”

“I’m not catatonic,” Tony protested, stepping back to pace as much as the elevator allowed. “What, so you’re just fine? Steve’s just fine?”

“Why wouldn’t we be fine?”

Tony covered his face with his hands, his words muffled as he sighed, “I’m losing my mind. It’s finally happened.”

Peter folded his arms, then held his chin in a hand, studying him like he was a misbehaving experiment. “Have you been drinking? Do you need to sit down?”

“Oh my god, I can’t— You do remember Eros, right? What happened to the lust spell?”

“We… we told you. We feel better now.”

“So, that’s just it.”

“What is?”

Tony swallowed a bellow of frustration and held up a finger of warning. “So, you two went at it like rabid bunnies on Viagra and now everything’s just cool. Okay. Great.”

“But, we told you, it had just been building up a lot. We got it out of our systems. We’re good now. I still want you. I’m always gonna want you, but you’ve been working really hard, and I care more about taking care of you than using you to get off.”

“You’re being serious,” Tony said carefully. “You sound like you’re being serious.”

“I am. Why wouldn’t I be serious?” A thought bubbled up, derailing him. “Oh, I need to send you something. Almost forgot.”

He pulled out his phone and started tapping at the screen.

“I’m gonna need to see your ass. Your bare ass. Right now,” Tony decided.

Peter looked around the elevator.

“Yeah, right now. Come on.”

Peter slipped the phone back into his front pocket and turned to the wall. He opened his fly and pushed the jeans down with his underwear, then pulled the back of his shirt and hoodie up a little. Leaning against the wall with one hand, he titled his hips to push out his ass, his face flushing with embarrassment, which didn’t really make Tony feel less crazy. It was the first time since Eros that Peter had ever been shy with him.

It also made Tony feel like the one under a spell, because the sight of Peter’s ass did all kinds of things to him, especially presented shyly but obediently on demand in a private elevator.

Tony stepped up to him, fingers skimming over the flawless, golden skin. There were no marks. No bruises. When Tony spread him with both hands, then dragged his fingertips lightly over his opening, Peter let out a soft moan, hiding his face.

Heart pounding, cock hard as iron, Tony made himself pull his hands away.

Voice a little more gravelly than usual, he said, “Okay, pull ‘em up.”

“Please,” Peter begged, hesitating.

There it was. Solid ground. Thank god.

Tony reached around him, found Peter’s dripping erection and fondled it, watching him squeeze his eyes shut and gasp. He flushed darker, biting at his own lip.

It was so different, it made Tony’s head spin.

Still trying to get his footing, he asked softly by Peter’s ear, “What do you need?”

“I’m um,” Peter started, his voice wavering, “working on patience. Waiting.”

Okay.

Tony tugged Peter’s boxers back up over his straining length, then pulled the jeans up for him next before gently adjusting him inside them, only to finally zip them up.

Peter let out a quivering exhale, trembling with both hands splayed against the wall, bliss suffusing his expression.

“Good boy,” Tony said with a kiss to the side of Peter’s neck.

“God, I love you.”

“Love you too, cutie.”

He stepped back and got the elevator going again. As the doors opened on the penthouse, Tony asked, “So what’d you send me?”

Peter bit at his thumbnail. One glance at the look in his eyes and Tony was fumbling out his phone to check.

“Why did you send me an encrypted file titled N-S-F-W?”

“Security purposes,” Peter replied seriously. “You can look at it later if—” Tony pulled it up. “Or now. Now’s okay too.”

The video file was time-stamped from twenty-four hours earlier, showing an aerial view of the dining area from the security camera in the penthouse. Steve and Peter were naked in one of the chairs, with Peter riding Steve, faced away from him with Steve’s hands working between Peter’s legs and clasped around his jaw, respectively. The fingers at his jaw brushed over his lower lip, mouth fallen widely open as he panted with little whimpers, tongue pushed forward to lick. He swiveled his hips, grinding on Steve’s dick, riding it while leaned back against him. The hand between Peter’s legs stroked his cock before clamping down around the base. Steve hissed and moaned, dragging open-mouthed kisses along Peter’s neck.

It was completely fucking obscene and Tony closed it as soon as the big head managed to take over again.

Peter watched him meekly with both hands covering his mouth.

Tony cleared his throat.

Yeah, he had nothing.

“Why… why?” he stammered.

“So you could see. So you were, you know, included. And so you wouldn’t worry so much, because it’s been a lot more, um, gentle, since that first time. And when I’m, you know, riding him…”

He trailed off, humiliation strangling him silent.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to finish that sentence.”

“It’s just a little easier? I can go slower and control it more. So I don’t…” A weary sigh. “So I don’t start screaming my head off again. Though I did get louder later in the video when he lifted me up a little and started, um. You get the idea. We didn’t plan on you watching it right away.”

“You don’t like watching yourself?”

“It’s for you, not me,” he murmured, averting his gaze and fidgeting. He turned, walked a few steps and grabbed his backpack, slinging it over a shoulder. “I, um, actually promised Sam I’d go out and patrol with him for a few hours, if you’re okay? I won’t be long, and Steve’ll be back soon.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Go on.”

“Okay.” Peter hesitated, then rushed over and kissed him. It was soft and the tease of the tip of his tongue almost made Tony grab on and beg him to stay. “I really missed you,” Peter breathed, pulling away. With one backward glance over his shoulder, he left Tony speechless.

*

Tony’s ability to get some sleep had been spotty at best all week, especially after the haunting video calls with Steve and Peter, so after a shower and an easily ignored instinct to go to the workshop, he fell into bed and was out like a light.

He woke with a hum at the tickle of light kisses being pressed to the back of his shoulder. His sleep had been deep and dreamless, leaving him rested but heavy with the temptation to drift back off again. Fighting it, he squinted around for a clock, he realized he couldn’t see shit and mumbled, “What time is it?”

“Morning. You were tired. Totally understandable,” Peter said softly. “Hey, I ever tell you about this one fantasy I’ve had?” His fingers caressed down the curve of Tony’s lower back to the swell of his ass, slipping into his crease to rub over his hole.

“Honestly can’t tell if I’m dreaming,” Tony exhaled, shifting his legs wider.

“It’s a good dream. I’ve had this one too.” The fingers pulled away for a moment, came back wet. The pad of a fingertip traced the spot, then pushed to slide inside to the last knuckle. Tony moaned into the bed, arching.

While he kept shaking off the vestiges of sleep, drifting dazedly somewhere just shy of full consciousness, Peter kept kissing along his neck and back towards his spine while slowly pumping that one, slick finger inside him, twisting it around and feeling him out. Achingly erect and unable to hold back the soft sounds he was making, Tony soon needed more, but decided to let Peter control the pace.

Perhaps showing his first sign of telepathy, Peter whispered to him, “How good are you at being patient?” At the same time, he slipped the finger out, rubbing unhurriedly through the crease again before plunging the finger back inside with a curled stroke to his prostate.

“So not good,” Tony groaned.

“Yeah, thought so. You know what I want, right? I mean, you are a genius. Shouldn’t be difficult to figure out.”

“Has he replaced you with your evil twin while I was gone?”

The solitary digit kept fucking him and he tried not to writhe or push back into it, but god, it was tough. The minutes drew out, so he blurted, “Fine. Please.”

“Mm, not convinced,” Peter decided, not hurrying his pace at all. “My fantasy was about being gentle, you know.”

“There is such a thing as too gentle.”

The finger withdrew completely and played with his rim. Peter shifted to sit up rather than lie beside him, spreading him with a hand as he teased.

“No, no, come on. Please? Give me two at least.”

“You don’t get to make demands right now.”

“It’s not a demand, it’s a negotiation.”

“Nope, you don’t get to negotiate either. All you get to do is lay there and take it, and beg me for more.”

“I am literally gonna spank Rogers for being such a bad influence on you.” Tony growled. He let it come out more sincerely when he begged, “Please, Peter.”

“Mm, okay.” He nudged two fingers inside, just the tips, and said, “Speaking of spanking…”

The slap connected with a crack against the thickest part of his left butt cheek, way harder than it had any right to be. He clenched up on the fingers and yelped.

“Jesus fucking… I thought you said gentle!”

“Well, you’re not behaving very well for me, Mr. Stark.”

“I thought I warned you not to call me that, _kid_.”

“Yeah, but I’m in charge right now. And you’ve been bad.”

“I swear to—”

The next slap was somehow even harder, and there had to be a handprint left behind from that one. He was not getting turned on by it, he told himself. Absolutely not. Though when the two fingers slid into him to the hilt, the strength of his moan kind of betrayed him. One hand kneaded his throbbing ass and the fingers of other spread apart to stretch him. He thrust against the bed, almost against his will, hands curling into fists, feet flexing and mouth working against the bed, his face turned directly down towards it.

The third slap made him choke off a yell, shuddering as pre-come leaked from his cock.

“I didn’t say you could move, Mr. Stark.”

Tony let out a hysterical, breathless laugh. “Oh fuck… I’m not ever gonna be able to hear that in an innocent context again and I don’t even care…”

The fingers kept moving in and out in long strokes that began rubbing over his g-spot on every in-stroke. With a handful of his own hair, loving the feel of Peter’s hand on his hip pinning him down to take it, Tony shivered and moaned Peter’s name.

As a reward for good behavior, maybe, Peter grabbed a pillow or two and told him, “Hips up.” He shoved them underneath and shifted to lay on top of him, removing the fingers entirely again and grabbing the lube.

Tony was awake enough at that point to sense the other presence in the room and wonder how long it had been there, skin prickling with goosebumps as Peter’s lube-slick erection thrust between his cheeks a couple of times before lining up.

“Say please.”

“Please.”

He pushed inside and Tony nearly came just from that, panting and tensing, back arched to meet the push, hands planted on the bed at his shoulders, teeth biting down on a wad of the bedding beneath him as he growled.

Peter laid down on top of him, his body flush against him from groin to lips which moved over the back of his neck, teeth scraping lightly, tongue licking. With soft half-whimpers, half-growls, he rode Tony in slow, long strokes, quivering and Tony didn’t dare move a muscle because he was right on the edge, holding his breath and fighting hard against his orgasm. Peter’s hands moved along the sides of his body, caressing. His rhythm was set and steady, and made Tony wonder how much training in patience Peter had done to hold out so long.

Then the bed shifted and Tony had to turn his face away, breath catching. Fingers pushed through his hair, scratching at his scalp and tugging the strands.

“Roll onto your side,” Steve instructed, and then there was no hiding.

Eyes shut tight, Tony felt the kiss, opening to it as Steve cupped the side of his face, humming. His strategy must have been to claim and daze, and it was successful, Tony’s jaw aching, and lips tingling, from the ferociousness of it.

Peter had Tony’s right leg lifted, still riding him as Steve sank down and Tony’s hands flew to grab a useless handful of blond hair. First, Steve licked, then sucked the head of Tony’s cock clean. When he took the whole thing down his throat, Tony knew he was a goner. Caught between them, he cried out as he unloaded and Steve swallowed it down, fingers reaching back to where Peter was stuffed inside him. Steve traced the rim, then pushed a finger inside alongside Peter, who panted by Tony’s ear and convulsed, giving a couple of particularly not-gentle thrusts as he came deep inside him.

He kept moving more gently. Steve kept the finger in there, licking at Tony’s softening cock, and Tony could only groan.

Steve withdrew the finger and shifted up to make eye contact before Peter showed any sign of pulling out, which was new for them. He’d never had to look right at Steve while someone else’s cock was inside him before. But Steve was determined, holding Tony’s half-lidded gaze and caressing his neck.

“Hey,” he said to Tony in greeting.

“Hey. You were here the whole time, weren’t you? I was serious about that spanking.”

“I’m not too worried about it,” Steve smirked. “You’re not as strong as he is. You’re gonna want to see that handprint. It’s a nice look on you.” He kissed Tony again, then lunged over him, arm braced on the bed, to kiss Peter. Tony couldn’t see it, but it sounded dirty enough to make him struggle futilely to get hard again.

“You ever gonna pull out?” Tony asked listlessly.

“Nope, this is mine. I live here now.” His teeth scraped over Tony’s shoulder.

“Noted.”

“You’re just gonna surrender like that?” Steve asked with disbelief.

“Hey, I know when I’m beat.”

Then, Peter did pull out, and Steve stared at the sight of it hungrily enough to give Tony fresh goosebumps.

It was not the welcome home he’d expected, but hey, he’d take it.

Peter collapsed, winding his limbs around Tony possessively. Steve lay propped on his side looking down at them, hand skimming over both their bodies just as possessively. That was new too.

“Breakfast is ready when you are, okay?” Steve offered, catching and holding Tony’s gaze again. “No rush.”

Tony reached for his hand and wove their fingers together. “You didn’t get to participate much, so if you need—”

“I’m good. I took care of it. The spanking did me in, actually,” Steve confessed. Tony could see he was hard again though, and felt compelled to offer… something.

But he knew what this was. It was Steve and Peter taking care of him, trying to ease back and show him they could get a handle on this thing, for his sake if not theirs.

“I’m really glad you’re home, Tony,” Steve told him, with that Cap sincerity.

“Me too. Hey—”

“You don’t need to—”

“No. No, I do. I should have trusted you more than I did.”

“No, it’s not your fault you reacted strongly, and it’s not something to apologize for, because it came from love.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t fair to you.”

Steve blew out a breath before replying, his gaze darting away. “I felt… guilty… about what I’d done. The circumstances were out of the ordinary, and I do swear to you both I’ll be more careful in the future, but I did… I let it get away from me.”

“Heaven forbid Captain America makes a mistake now and then.”

“Yeah, well. When the mistake has those kinds of consequences…”

Peter piped up then without relinquishing his claim on all of Tony. “I wanted it. I would have said no or stop or used the safe word or the safety protocol trigger word if I wanted it to stop. I had options. I wasn’t in danger. If you two get to let off steam together now and then with a flogger, then it’s only fair I get to do it in my own ways too, with Steve. We talked about it. I knew what was coming. I didn’t say stop.”

“Okay,” Tony sighed. “Okay. I surrender.”

“I like when you surrender,” Steve smiled, leaning in for another kiss.

“Mm, me too,” Peter sighed with a pointed nudge against Tony’s thoroughly-fucked ass.

*

Clint walked into the parlor of the Sanctum Sanctorum as Stephen Strange held out a hand to usher him inside. “Have a seat. Please. Would you like some tea?”

“I don’t know, from the look on your face I kind of want some scotch instead,” Clint admitted, with no idea why he was there, but with an increasingly sinking feeling.

“Of course,” Stephen replied, sweeping in and sitting across from Clint, he gestured and two of the glasses on the tray beside them began to fill with amber liquid. When Clint paled and just kind of stared at them, Stephen prompted, “Go on,” and took one for himself, downing it in one swallow.

“Yeah, that’s not a good sign, so,” Clint lifted the glass and drank it back. He exhaled as it burned its way down, “Nice. Okay. Lay it on me. Whatever this bad news is, bring it on.”

Stephen smiled a little, hands tented in front of him, elbows resting on the arms of the high back armchair. “I need your opinion on something rather sensitive,” Stephen admitted. His eyes unfocused, or maybe focused on something Clint was too closed-minded to see. The fluttering of the ends of Stephen’s cape in the breezeless room and the quiet mutterings from nowhere in particular all around them kept giving him chills. How the guy lived like this, Clint had no idea. Magic was creepy.

“Lemme guess. Eros.”

“Indeed. I may have, uh, found traces of his magical footprint in a pocket dimension, which may or may not be a sign of where his missing bow is hidden. I haven’t pursued it. After everything he’s put us all through, I know not to do him favors unless there’s something we can get in return. My own impulses towards him are of a specific sort of nature, which don’t interfere with the bigger picture. I know he’s the one who attacked first. He’s not friendly, per se.”

Leaning heavily on his hand, wanting more scotch, Clint just grunted, “Mm-hmm.”

“If I give him this information, or investigate on his behalf, I could, in theory, ask for something in exchange. Say, weakening his hold on you.”

They sat in silence for a full minute. Or, relative silence. The eerie muttering still continued. Was it coming from the books? The doorways? Even with his tracking abilities, Clint couldn’t tell.

“Weakening,” he finally echoed.

“Yes. Unless you’d want to try for being free of him entirely?” Stephen measured his reaction, then continued, “Our truce with him has depended thus far on his satisfaction that we belong to him as much as to his father. If we upset the balance too much, pull back too far, we risk riling him again and provoking further attacks. I’m sure you can understand how dangerous it would be to have even more people hit by his arrows. But, if we asked him to simply weaken the hold, you could regain some balance in your life.”

Clint tried to imagine it—not wanting Bucky the way he did. Or wanting him less. Needing less. Losing the overwhelming, scrambling madness that only Bucky was able to sate.

Rotating the ring on his finger, staring down at it, Clint stifled with effort the instinct to run from the room.

“Would you be interested in that?” Stephen asked after an endless stretch of silence.

Some other pieces fell into place.

Stephen had asked him here alone. Without Bucky. Or any of the others. Maybe it was due to wanting an honest reply, without the pressure to have his answer influenced by other factors.

Had he been asked first? Last?

Also, he thought back to before Eros had attacked that day, to how he’d felt toward Bucky. His attraction was something he’d fled from, eagerly. He imagined going back to that, to facing Bucky, who he loved, with less desire, more doubt, more fear.

And what if Eros only agreed to weaken his hold on Clint, but not the others? It would leave Bucky with needs Clint would still have to fulfill, without the encouragement and mutual satisfaction of the magic underlying it all. Would something like that break Clint in other ways? Would something he loved become something he feared? Bucky was a scary guy when he got intense. If Clint wasn’t able to get intense with him, that just left him on his own to face all of that, unsupported.

On the other hand, they’d pushed so far. Was it getting better? Worse? Sometimes, he was able to shift to a perspective outside himself, and see how Bucky had to coax and comfort him when the magic took hold. It left Clint unable to work, his focus obliterated. It could cost him his life one day. One mistake at the wrong time. And if he died, where did that leave Bucky? Could Bucky even survive without Clint to balance him out?

“Oh my god,” Clint groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“Yeah,” Stephen sighed.

“What if…” Clint scrambled, “What if you did find the bow, but we used it against him somehow? If we tried to all get free of him completely?”

“He was able to knock out half of us in minutes without the bow. And that was when he was only vaguely interested in questioning me about what I knew. If we went against him now, it would be personal. He’d be angry. Right now, he’s not interested in attacking our world. He’s distracted. Busy. He’s also frustrated by the struggle against his father. He’s a god of passion. It’s just not a great idea to piss him off without a good reason and defense lined up.”

Clint just stared, “How have you even survived fucking that guy.” Instantly, he self-corrected, “Sorry. Absolutely none of my business.”

“Like I said, he’s busy. I’m drawn to him but he’s not drawn to me. He’s got countless devotees in endless worlds through the multiverse. He only shows up here when he has a reason to.”

“But… how have you stayed sane? With how much it messes with me, if Bucky wasn’t even here—”

Stephen held up a hand. “Before I answer that, what’s your response to my proposal? Are you interested?”

“I don’t know,” Clint told him. “I really don’t. But the options seem like they suck.”

“Okay. But if you had to choose, which would it be?”

“I weaken his hold, it only hurts me. I don’t weaken his hold, it hurts both me and Bucky. Option A.”

Stephen nodded, the tension around him mysteriously easing a little.

“And your answer?” Clint prodded.

Reaching into the collar of his robes, he pulled out an amulet, glowing red, held on a thin metal chain. Clint recognized the shade of crimson. Like blood.

“What’s, um. What’s that?” he asked with forced casualness.

“I’ve learned how to channel the magic within me—Eros’ magic—into a sacred object. There’s spellwork involved and it’s something I need to do fairly consistently in order to push the magic out of me. The way he hooks his signature into us is powerful and not easily defeated. But at this point, it’s like having to hum a particular song under my breath all day. As long as I do that, I don’t feel any effects. And he can’t tell I’m doing it. If he approaches, I can feel it, and I simply stop separating it from me. It’s worked so far.”

“No side effects?”

“None.”

“But, you’re the Sorcerer Supreme.”

“I am. It takes a lot of concentration and skill.”

“So it wouldn’t work for any of us like it does you.”

“I’m sorry,” Stephen told him.

“Fuck.”

Stephen glanced to one of the doorways to the study, then back at Clint. “There is, uh, one other thing we could try. If you want.”

“What?”

“A magical parasite. I fight them off constantly, for myself and others. They’re everywhere. Some are more prone to succumbing to them than others. They feed off of us, when they can. Cause imbalances. I’d never consider attaching one to myself voluntarily, even to get rid of Eros, because it would feed on more than just my lust, and I need access to magic in order to do my job. But…”

“I don’t.”

“True. You don’t need magic the way I do. In fact, you’re the only one I’d feel comfortable trying this with. The others are all powered in some way. There’s a chance a parasite would lead to them losing their abilities, eventually.”

“But, this seems like a way better plan than Option A, or am I missing something?” Clint said, feeling a spark of hope.

“Well,” Stephen sighed, “it wouldn’t be permanent. We’d attach it to you for a short time, let it feed, remove it, and then send you on your way. Like a leach. It would get fat on the magic, drain you to a lower level, and basically fall off. The spell would eventually strengthen again, in time. So we’d repeat the procedure.”

Clint ran his hands through his hair, blowing out a breath and groaning. “Okay. Okay. Um… Painful?”

“Let’s just say _unpleasant_.”

“Low risk?”

“For you, yes. For anyone else who was hit by an arrow? No. Which means this hasn’t been tested. It would be a shot in the dark. But you’d stay connected to Eros. He wouldn’t know we were doing this.”

“Then let’s do it. Give it a shot. I can deal with unpleasant, and if it doesn’t work, at least we tried.”

“Even though negotiating with Eros would be a more permanent option?”

“Yeah.” Clint agreed.

“You can think about it, if you need to,” Stephen offered.

“No need. Do you have one here? A parasite, or…”

“I can have one within the hour,” Stephen said, sitting forward. “You’ll want to talk to Sergeant Barnes before we commence, I believe. He can be here for the procedure, if you want.”

Clint groaned again. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

He pulled out a phone and found Bucky’s name in his contacts.

“Excuse me a moment,” Stephen said, standing and moving for one of the doors. It shut softly behind him as the call went through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Clint and the parasite...
> 
> Chapter 7 will be posted on Thursday! Thank you for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold, the chapter I've rewritten more times than I can count... *closes eyes and hits post*

“He made the right call,” Tony decided, fidgeting in the larger library adjoining the study.

Stephen gave him one of those hair-raising once-overs, sounding not at all convinced as he asked, “And you’re sure of your answer?”

“Yep. Totally sure.”

“We can pursue this, Tony, if—”

“No. No, we’re not going to do that. We can keep strategizing, but there’ll be no further action until we’re surer of a victory. Stop giving me that look. I’m the one at risk, like you said. I made my decision. Peter’s been great. Steve’s great. We’re working it out.”

“But Tony—”

“No. The deal was we would only proceed if Barton wanted to. And he doesn’t. So we investigate other options. Keep what you know in your back pocket. It might come in handy.”

Stephen hesitated. “All right.”

“You didn’t tell him about the spell’s other side effect,” Tony pointed out. “Why?”

“Because as far as I’m concerned telling him doesn’t help anything or anyone. It’s a ‘cross that bridge when we come to it’ situation. Eros has shown no interest in coming anywhere near any other Avengers. He barely visits me. He’s only been here once and that was with ample warning. The other times, I went to him. The other side effect doesn’t kick in unless he’s in very close proximity to those under his spell. It’s possible it doesn’t even happen unless he wants it to. Yet another reason not to make him angry with us.”

“I’m still going to have Wong put the magical shield back on the tower, just in case,” Tony declared.

“That’s fine. It’s probably a good idea. Just as a precaution.” He glanced back at the doorway to the study where Clint spoke with Bucky about their plan. “Will you stay for this, or no?”

“Yeah,” Tony nodded. “Yeah, back-up is always good to have.”

“Okay. I’ll prepare the room and be back for you shortly.”

*

“Hey, so, you know how you always threaten to drag me over to Stephen Strange whenever my focus is for shit?”

“…Yeah…” Bucky replied with maximum hesitance. “Where are you?”

“The Sanctum.”

“Clint—”

“He asked me here. He has a plan. Something temporary to help me get some control over this. Low risk, big potential payoff.”

“Why only you? Why weren’t we all asked to be there?”

“Because you’re all powered and this solution doesn’t work for anyone powered. But I’m telling you now. I’m doing this. He’s getting ready right now. Can you come over? Moral support type of deal?”

“Wait. Slow down. What exactly is he doing?”

“Magical parasite. It, you know, feeds on the magic from the arrow, then falls off when it’s full.”

“What the hell is a magical parasite? We should talk about this. Think about it instead of—”

Clint cut him off, fueled by more than half-a-year’s pure desperation. “James, it’s my call. My body. My life. This will help both of us. Hell, it might even save my life. Are you really gonna fight me on that?”

“I’ll do it with you then. I don’t fuckin’ care about my powers anyway.”

“Your life is not in danger here,” Clint emphasized, pushing with all the effort he could muster through every single submissive instinct in him that just wanted to serve and make Bucky happy, no matter what it cost. “Mine is. Agreed?”

Bucky blew out a breath.

Clint kept going, filling the gap. “If you really want to try this too, we can talk about that, but there isn’t the same urgency that there is for me.” He waited a long moment for this to sink in for Bucky, trying to ignore the continued eerie whispering from the perimeter of the room. “But I love you and I want you to be here for this with me. So will you come?”

There was still only the sound of breathing, so he repeated, “Low risk. Big payoff. Stephen fights these things all the time. Daily. Calls ‘em the pests of the magical world, like roaches. He knows what they do and how to handle them. Stephen would refuse to use them on you if you tried to force it, and I’d do this without you if I had to. I’m tired of being helpless. I’m sick of being scared.”

After an eternity, Bucky asked, “You said temporary?”

“I did. The level of Eros’ magic in me would be temporarily lowered. It will come back. We’d have to do this again, regularly, so I could maintain normal function and do my damn job.”

He waited for Bucky to ask about the implications, to wonder what this would do to Clint’s attraction to him. To say this might destroy their relationship.

But he didn’t, and Clint wasn’t even surprised. Safeguarding Clint had always been Bucky’s number one priority. This was his best chance of doing that, even if it meant Bucky lost everything in the process.

“You’re sure?” Bucky asked, softly.

“Damn sure.”

“Fuck,” Bucky sighed.

He made the plea as heartfelt and sincere as possible. “Please, James? I need you with me for this.”

“Then I’ll be with you.”

“Thank you,” Clint smiled.

“On my way now.”

*

An invisible magical force lifted Clint up off the ground. His back was to the floor, his arms and legs stretched out tightly in an X shape. He couldn’t fidget, let alone move. He’d been told to remove his shirt.

“Stephen, this is not reassuring,” Clint observed.

“Hang in there,” Stephen replied.

“Not funny.”

“Sergeant Barnes, how are things with you?” Stephen asked as he removed a large jar from a previously locked chest and began to unscrew the lid.

“It’s not me I’m worried about right now. I’m calm. Do it.”

Tony activated his armored glove, which charged up and glowed, the pulse weapon ready. Bucky side-eyed him.

“Hey, just a precaution, big guy. We’re all here to help.”

Before removing the lid, Stephen placed a leather bit between Clint’s teeth. He clenched down on it and closed his eyes.

The thing in the jar squirmed, throwing itself against the glass as it sensed food nearby.

“You sure you wanna watch this?” Tony asked Bucky.

“Not at all.”

“Ready?” Stephen asked Clint.

Clint nodded sharply.

Stephen poured the contents of the jar over Clint’s bare chest.

As soon as it landed, Clint flinched, tried to squirm as the magic holding him in mid-air pulled him tighter to keep him still. Breathing ragged around the bit, Clint growled then gasped, straining and back bowing, his breathing choking off as the thing on his chest burrowed down past the skin.

Then, he screamed.

Tony used the gloved hand to hold Bucky back when he surged forward.

“Steady, soldier,” Tony murmured.

There was no blood, because the wound was magical, not physical. Clint thrummed, shook, and convulsed, fingers splayed, eyes rolled back in their sockets. Sweat poured from him as his breath ran out, with nothing left to use to shriek.

They could see the thing wound around Clint’s torso, its tentacles squeezing in pulses, its body swelling steadily as it gorged itself.

Between long pauses, Clint would gasp for air, shuddering constantly.

About an hour after it first attached, the thing curled up and slid off. Stephen caught it and stuffed it back in the jar, screwing the lid back on as he walked it back to the chest.

“Sergeant,” Stephen beckoned, as the magic loosened its hold on Clint, unconscious now.

Bucky rushed forward, getting his arms under Clint as he slowly collapsed into them.

“It’s just shock,” Stephen explained. “In time, he’ll get used to it and it won’t hit him as hard.”

Tony stood by, scrutinizing Bucky’s terror, Clint’s mostly peaceful exhaustion, and Stephen’s resignation. “My car’s out front,” he told Bucky. “Let’s get him home.”

Bucky let Tony guide him toward the door, but stopped before passing through it. “Hey, Stephen?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Stephen smiled slightly, in apology, “Always glad to help.”

*

Bruce was in and ready to check Clint’s vitals before Bucky had even set him down on the couch. Tony also seemed reluctant to leave.

When Clint stirred moments after being set down, they retreated and left Bucky alone with him, promising to stay nearby, just in case.

Bucky cupped the side of Clint’s face. His color back so he wasn’t so deathly pale, but still seemed wrung out.

“Hey. How do you feel?” he asked.

Clint’s gaze darted down to his chest, and he eased with a heavy exhale to see it looking normal again, not a mark left.

“Like I just did the world’s toughest triathlon and forgot to train. God, I could feel it inside me, chewing in there.” He shivered in revulsion.

Bucky rested his hand on the spot where the thing had attached, caressing the skin. Head rolling to the side, Clint raised his hand to overlap Bucky’s.

“Did it… did it work?”

Bucky hated the fear in his voice. Fear that it worked. That it hadn’t.

Making and holding eye contact, Clint watched him as Bucky worried. Clint’s voice was softer when he murmured, “Thank you for being there. Made it easier to go through with it. I know it must have been hard to see.”

“Please don’t spare my feelings,” Bucky asked. “I need to know, okay? Your health is the most important thing. Did it work?”

Clint chewed on his lower lip, gaze downcast, and slowly nodded. “Yeah.”

Bucky sighed, squeezed his eyes shut, letting it sink in.

“I feel lighter. Like I can breathe easier. Like I’ve been doped up for a long, long time and I just went through some awful fucking withdrawal symptoms, but now I can think straight again.”

“How straight?”

Clint breathed out a quiet laugh but still didn’t meet Bucky’s eyes.

Clint flushed then, pulling in on himself a little as if uncomfortable, breath quickening.

Bucky released how he was touching Clint, and froze. He removed his hand from Clint’s chest and sat back a little to give him space.

“No, you don’t—” Clint started, his breath running out. He cleared his throat and cursed under his breath, flushing even redder. “You can kiss me,” he murmured, barely audible. “If you want.”

“You want me to or you’re just saying that to make me feel better?”

“Um.” Clint breathed out a groaning laugh.

“What?”

“Oh, just realizing I was never nervous before for a reason. The spell must have shut down all of that.”

“So, you’re nervous?”

He gave a weak smile and looked properly mortified, like he wished the couch would eat him alive to spare him this conversation. “Just, you know, a smidge.”

“Why?”

Clint looked down at the ring on his finger, then touched it, spinning it around.

“I don’t know. It’s not like you haven’t kissed me before. In many places. So many places. It just kind of feels like this is going to be the first time. For me. Deciding to instead of, you know.”

“You never answered my question. Do you want me to?”

“I swear to god, James. The humiliation is not more fun than the lust.” Clint reached up to cover his face with both hands, groaning again.

“Do you want me to, Clint?”

“God, you’re stubborn,” he breathed, pressing his palms into his eye sockets. “Yes, I want you to, okay?”

It wasn’t hugely convincing.

Bucky allowed himself to reach back to run his fingertips lightly over Clint’s chest, above his heart. Almost frantically, Clint grabbed the hand and folded it into his own.

It was a good sign. Maybe.

Leaning in ever-so-gradually, Bucky approached Clint’s lips. He gave him every opportunity to stop him or say something. His hair swung forward to get in the way, so Clint brushed it back behind an ear for him. Bucky could hear Clint’s pulse racing dangerously, his breathing shallow, faint. He still wasn’t making eye contact, his eyes now squeezed shut.

He made the smallest whimper as Bucky’s lips grazed lightly over his, and panted against his mouth, trembling. His fingers wove back through Bucky’s hair and his lips parted. Teasing the middle of Clint’s top lip with the tip of his tongue, Bucky savored all of Clint’s growing submission, knowing it was real, and more honest than it had ever been before. Clint opened to the kiss without hesitation, let Bucky take what he wanted and kissed him back. When Bucky licked back over Clint’s tongue, he swallowed his gasp and moan, and felt his own hunger devour it all greedily. He held Clint tighter, kissed him harder. It just made Clint yield even more.

That was definitely a good sign.

Breaking away after a moment, he watched Clint try to lift his chin to hide his face from scrutiny. When that didn’t work, he raised a hand to use to cover his eyes.

Bucky slipped a hand beneath Clint’s neck and drew him up into an embrace which Clint pressed into, his arms winding around.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Clint inhaled deeply, his nose pressed to Bucky’s neck, and grabbed a handful of his hair, rubbing at the strands idly to feel their softness. That was familiar, something that had come directly from Clint and not the spell. Bucky added it to the new mental list, observing Clint with an aching desperation.

They stayed like that a long while, settling into a more comfortable position so that Clint rested against Bucky in a seated, upright position.

“I don’t feel sore or anything. It’s like it never happened. It’s weird,” Clint told him. “And I don’t…”

“What?”

“I don’t feel scared. Of any of this. Of us. Of that awful parasite. Of Eros.”

“Even knowing this is just a temporary fix?”

Clint pulled away, sat up and looked over at him. He glanced down at his bare chest and rolled his eyes, folding his arms self-consciously.

“Really?” Bucky said with a raised eyebrow.

“What? I have no lust spell to distract me from all of the implications of what I feel and what we did. And the realization that now we have to do everything while I’m clear-headed. How the hell am I gonna survive getting fucked by you without any distractions?”

“I can handle distractions,” Bucky smiled.

“You. You’re enjoying this too much,” Clint decided, glancing around as if looking for escape.

Bucky pressed him back into the couch, boxing him in with both arms braced on either side of him, then leaned in to breathe over his softened lips, “Maybe we should take this to the gym. I could pin you down again.”

Clint surged forward to catch Bucky’s lips, frowning, kissing him with a groan that sharpened as Bucky reached down to cup Clint’s crotch, measuring his erection through the jeans. With a happy hum, he smiled as Clint once again tried to hide his state of arousal by drawing Bucky in, pressing his face to his neck.

“The ways I need you to touch me right now are really inappropriate for the gym,” Clint said.

“You sure?”

Bucky caressed Clint’s cock through his pants, felt Clint’s breath catch, heard him swallow a whine. The flesh in his hand twitched with interest. More good signs.

“You’re really into the begging, huh? Is my boner not convincing enough for you?”

Bucky smiled, teasing his own lip through his teeth as he pulled back for a good view of Clint’s squirming. “I’m not scared anymore either,” he told him. “We can work with this.”

“Yeah. I think we can.” He made tentative eye contact for the first time and said, “I love you, you know.”

Something unknotted inside Bucky’s chest and he breathed a freer breath. Closing his eyes, he fought back the tide of emotion that washed through him, driven by cold fear of how close he’d come to losing Clint forever. The only things that got past him were a pained exhale, a furrow of his brow.

“Love you too,” he managed.

Clint took his hand, frowning now too. “Hey…”

Bucky shook his head. “I’m fine. Just… relieved.”

“Me too.”

“Really? More relieved than scared?”

Clint took a second to think about it. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I love you just as much, you know. I just don’t have magic in the way to complicate things. This is all me now. When Stephen offered this, I was way more scared than I am now. I knew how dangerous it was for me to stay under the influence of the spell, for both of us. I was scared what I wanted from you would change, but…” he blew out a breath.

“What?”

“I don’t know. Still feeling it out. Kind of like the difference between a need and a want.”

When he didn’t say more, Bucky asked, “And what do you want? I can get some food if you’re hungry, or we could go for a walk, or I could let you sleep or—”

“Actually,” Clint cut in. “Could we, um…?” He looked pointedly over at the bedroom doorway.

“What?”

“Could we go to bed?”

“Clint—”

“James,” Clint interrupted, his plea quiet and gaze lowered. “We’ve been together for over six months. I’m wearing your ring. I’d like to go to bed, since this is the first time I’ve been with you while sober, and I don’t know how long this’ll last, and… please?”

“Why?”

“Because I want you.”

He looked up, his lip caught between his teeth, his expression absolutely filled with nervousness. As if Bucky would ever say no to him.

“Okay. As long as you promise to keep telling me exactly what you want.”

“Oh, I think I can manage that,” Clint said, stifling a smile.

*

“Why do I ask you do these things to me?” Clint lamented.

“Because you keep enjoying them so much?” Bucky retorted. “Should I stop?”

“Don’t you dare.”

Bucky breathed out a chuckle and twisted the buttplug a little farther inside. The flared end was the only thing left to get swallowed up by Clint’s hole, the skin stretched smooth around the thick toy, shining wet with all the lube. Clint’s feet drummed against Bucky’s back before a sharper kick of his heel connected as Bucky pressed the rest inside.

“Fuck,” Clint grunted through gritted teeth. He let out a pained whine as his opening clenched around the narrow notch in the base, locking the plug in his ass.

Satisfied with his work so far, Bucky smiled over his shoulder at his captive.

“Okay, that’s it. You’re definitely enjoying this too much,” Clint decided, his face red and lips swollen from being bitten by him so much. Eye contact was still a struggle for him, but they’d get there.

“Well, you are my prisoner. Your ass is mine.”

“Literally,” Clint breathed, tugging at the cuffs. Sweat dripped down his face. After the briefest glance up at Bucky’s eyes, Clint looked quickly away, still mortified though they’d been at this for well over two hours. “Please stop observing me.”

“Yeah, fat chance.”

He writhed a little, or tried to. When his captivity was assured, and Bucky kept enjoying the view, Clint asked like he didn’t want to know the answer, “And what conclusions have you come to so far?”

First, they’d made out for a while to help ease Clint into his new magically-sober situation. Once Clint seemed to handle basic kissing without issue, Bucky’s started diligently caressing, licking, and sucking kisses to him everywhere other than his lips until Clint’s mortification eased back to less mortally-dangerous levels.

Properly horrified to have enjoyed all of that so much, lust spell or no, Clint had asked for cuffs for the next part. Bucky had let him plead and bargain for them until convinced the request was legitimate. As soon as the cuffs went on, Clint had relaxed a little, finally, his sober pleasure accepted more easily.

His arms were stretched up above his head, the wrists linked together and chained to the headboard. To further immobilize him and properly present his ass for fucking, Bucky had folded Clint’s legs back until his thighs were pressed to his torso. Straddling both Clint’s midsection and the undersides of his thighs, Bucky was knelt over him, facing his target. Legs pinned down by Bucky’s immovable body on top of him, Clint could only wriggle. It wasn’t a bad look on him.

Bucky rubbed hard over Clint’s ass cheek, kneading it. He pressed at the wide flare of the plug’s base lying flush against the cleft of Clint’s ass, causing the fat length of it to nudge the inside of his anus. The response was a nice, low moan.

He slapped the curve of thick flesh to watch it jiggle.

“Aaah!”

“Another?”

“Who do you think I am? Of course another.”

The next slap was hard enough to leave a full handprint, the skin shifting pink as blood rushed to the surface. Clint swallowed the cry, writhing some more.

“Well, first observation is there’s a lot more talking with less magic inside you.”

“Of course there’s more talking. I’m trying to distract myself from the disturbingly gorgeous superpowered man who has me pinned and bound so he can have his way with me. I know what you’re capable of doing. The consequences of my choices are all becoming very, very clear.”

Bucky climbed off of him and swung around to face him instead, slipping down between his spread thighs and licking up his dripping, dark red cock while making full eye contact.

“And now you’re facing me,” Clint groaned. Watching his expression carefully, Bucky took another, slower lick, then kissed the tip. Clint’s mouth fell open, his frown deepening, his lower lip quivering. “Fuck…”

“Feels better without the magic, doesn’t it? Because now you can’t tell yourself this isn’t all you.”

“You really don’t have to say it out loud like that. And can you, like, pretend to be clumsy once in a while? For laughs? It’s unnerving how slick you always are.”

“See? Lots more talking.” Covering his teeth with his lips, Bucky took the head of Clint’s dick in his mouth and sucked it with a moan at the salty taste and the way the engorged thickness filled him up. His hair was tied back for convenience to keep it out of the way, but also because he knew Clint liked it. Setting a steady pace, he used the tight ring of his wet lips to give pressure and created enough suction to shove Clint past the ability to speak.

Driven by the desperation in Clint’s moans, Bucky let the world fall away, concentrating only on wringing Clint dry. He braced himself with the metal arm on the bed and stroked himself with the other. Glancing up, he saw Clint watching him avidly—Bucky’s mouth on his cock, and his hand as he masturbated. Once in a while he pulled off with a slurp, saliva covering his lips and chin, connecting to the swollen end in gossamer strings. Without a third hand to use to guide it, he chased after it again as it jumped and twitched against his cheeks, smearing pre-come and saliva there.

Clint kept watching all of this like his life depended on it. His head fell back for just a moment and he said, “Please tell me that’s not your attempt at clumsy. I feel like I’m being attacked by your hotness.”

He lifted his head again, staring at the wetness on Bucky’s cheek. So, of course Bucky nuzzled the leaking cock to smear more fluid across his face. Clint moaned, cock twitching and his hips snapping upward.

“How straight are you again?” Bucky asked before swallowing him down to the root with a happy hum.

Biting off a cry, Clint tensed and thrust desperately up into Bucky’s throat as he started coming.

Bucky pulled off, stroking him through it and catching the entire mess on his face, his lips parted and tongue darting out to catch what he could.

Moaning like he’d taken an arrow to the balls, Clint gasped, “You’re so mean.”

“Yeah, I’m awful,” Bucky agreed.

“Get the fuck up here so I can kiss you.”

“Jeez, bossy,” he smirked, crawling catlike up Clint’s spread, quivering body. Surging up towards Bucky’s mouth, Clint fought to lick and suck away as much as he could of the thick, sticky mess.

Breaking away, Bucky crawled even higher, so legs hugged the sides of Clint’s lean body. Swiping a hand through the rest of the come on his face, he gathered it up and spread it along his cock, stroking himself with it. He leaned in and angled his length down to Clint’s mouth. Feeding it to him, Bucky folded forward over him with an arm holding the headboard as he began to gently fuck his mouth. He caressed through Clint’s short hair and along his hollowed cheek as he thrust into the soft, wet heat of him, savoring his sweet whimpers and purrs.

Too soon, Bucky was on the edge, so he pulled out. Jacking himself, mouth fallen open around his cries, he came, white streaks striping Clint’s lips, tongue, chin, and cheek. Some shot up across his eyelashes.

“I wanted you to fuck me with that,” Clint rasped, the words coming out rougher than usual. It only made Bucky want to keep throat-fucking him until he could barely speak at all.

“Thought I just did. Besides, I’m not in a hurry.”

He sank down to fall back into their kiss, tasting himself on Clint’s lips and tongue, searching for every drip inside and out.

When Bucky eventually paused long enough to give him back the ability to talk, Clint said, “I’m glad you’re still a fan even when I’m dying from awkwardness.”

“I like you like this. I think the magic in me likes it too. Just pure, natural lust, not enhanced. Feels real. Honest. Plus, this is the first time we’ve been together where part of me hasn’t worried about mind control.”

Clint realized his wrists were no longer bound and pouted, “Hey…”

“We should eat. I’ll order something.”

Looking at him like he’d lost his mind, Clint said, “Have you forgotten the enormous plug in my ass? Because I sure haven’t.”

“Oh, that’s staying in there a while,” Bucky grinned.

Grabbing a pillow, Clint smashed it down over his face and groaned into it. Bucky drew it away before he could continue suffocating himself.

Bucky stood. Clasping Clint’s forearm, Bucky drew him upright and over to the side of the bed.

Clint winced, sitting briefly on the end of the plug before moving more gently as he got to his feet. “You know, I think next time you need a turn with this thing.”

“I’m not opposed,” Bucky allowed, hands on his hips as he enjoyed his work. Clint hobbled over to the bathroom and groaned.

“Why’d you have to go and tell me that? Now I’m getting all sorts of ideas.”

“Good.”

They quickly showered off and Bucky ordered pizza with the app on his phone. Just when Clint had lowered himself onto the couch to oh-so-carefully sit down, there was a knock at the door.

Without looking up from his phone, Bucky said, “You should get that.”

“Dude.”

“Go on.”

Hissing, gasping, and limping, Clint stood and made his way to the entrance to the apartment, palming his wallet on the way. He was wearing a loose-fitting pair of cotton pants and nothing else, likely figuring the delivery person wasn’t going to care.

Little did he know…

*

“Heard you signed up to be magical parasite food,” Natasha said with displeasure as Clint swung the door open.

He tried to quickly shut it in her face, but yeah. That wasn’t gonna happen. Her boot was already wedged against it to keep it propped.

Head fallen back in surrender, Clint just groaned some more. “What have I done to deserve this?” he wondered.

She was observing way too much, and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it without making it worse.

Then she slipped her phone from a back pocket and dialed.

“Hey Bruce,” she started.

“No!” He lunged, trying to grab for it, futilely. She just hit the speakerphone button and held it farther out of reach.

“Yeah?” Bruce replied.

“Clint’s up and about—kind of—if you want to stop by for a visit. Fair warning, he’s got a stick up his ass about something though.”

“I swear to god,” he grumbled under his breath.

Behind him, Bucky lost it, laughing hysterically.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll be right up.”

She ended the call.

“I really need to start hanging out with people who are more oblivious or at least have the manners to pretend they are,” he decided. “Why would you do that?”

“He cares about you.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t wanna see him right now. Or you. It’s not really a good time.”

Leaning in the doorway, she just kept looking between Bucky—doubled over clutching his stomach, tears leaking from his eyes—and Clint’s frown.

“Let’s sit,” she said.

“Let’s not.”

“He’s grumpy when he’s not high on lust magic, isn’t he?” she said to Bucky. Her gaze roamed down over him and she gestured, “You’ve got a little…”

Glancing down at himself and the many love bites covering his torso, he tried to fight the rising blush and called back to the giggling hundred-year-old-man on his sofa, “Would you get me a shirt or something? Unless you want Hulk to toss you through the window to test your flying abilities?”

“It’d almost be worth it though, to watch you try and explain.”

Clint tried to melt into the floor as Bucky went to the bedroom.

Once he was gone, Natasha smirked and said, “Guess you’re still attracted to him then.”

She took hold of one of his arms, turning it over to scrutinize the bruises coming out on his wrist with one raised eyebrow. “Still kinky, too.”

He yanked his arm back, neither confirming nor denying, verbally anyway.

“It’ll be good for Bruce to see this. I’m not doing it to torture you. That’s Bucky’s job.”

From the direction of the bedroom there was a distant, “Hey!”

“Kidding! Kind of. If this is you without the spell controlling you, and you’re still making the same choices, he’ll worry less.”

Bucky returned and threw a balled-up, long-sleeved shirt at Clint, who quickly pulled it on.

“Sitting before he arrives will be less suspicious than lingering stiffly in the entryway,” she told him.

“I know,” he sighed. “Look away or something.”

Swallowing every single noise that bubbled up as he waddled over to the couch and tried to somehow sit without bending or landing on his ass, he yelled, “Oh, fuck off, Tasha,” as she started giggling too.

Bruce arrived a moment later and then there were three of them around him, watching him.

“You look uncomfortable,” was Bruce’s first observation. The other two instantly started laughing again.

“Knock it off,” he scowled.

“What?” Bruce frowned.

“Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“How are you feeling? Are you noticing a difference?”

“I’m good. Clear. Focused. Big difference. Definitely worth it.”

“Clint, you’ve always been impulsive, but this is ridiculous,” Natasha spoke up. “Stephen didn’t even know what that thing would do to you. You’re not a guinea pig. Were you really that desperate?”

“I had my reasons. Everyone else has a handle on this, more or less. It was getting tougher to do my job. The feeling of not being in control wasn’t going away. I’m back in control now. It did what I hoped. It was the right call.”

“So it worked?” Bruce asked.

“I think so, yeah. Maybe not one hundred percent, but close. I feel like I’m really here. Mentally. No distractions.”

Bucky snorted. Clint scowled.

“What? What am I missing?” Bruce said, turning to them.

“Clint’s wearing a buttplug,” Natasha replied.

“Holy fucking… Okay, will someone please throw me through the window to test _my_ flying abilities?”

“No,” the three of them answered in tandem.

Clint grabbed a throw pillow and tried to suffocate himself with it again.

“Aww, Bruce, you’re blushing.”

Bruce cleared his throat. Bucky came over to yank the pillow away, sitting down next to him and jostling the couch enough for Clint to yelp a little.

That even made Bruce crack a smile.

“You all suck,” Clint decided as the hilarity at his expense continued.

There was another knock at the door.

“Seriously? Did you people invite _all_ the Avengers over to witness my humiliation?”

“Pizza guy,” Bucky murmured, then got up to answer it.

“Oh.”

“We can arrange that though, if you want,” Natasha offered.

“So you’re glad you let Stephen use the parasite?” Bruce asked, and Clint appreciated the attempt to get the conversation back on track.

“I am. And I’ll do it again, once the effects wear off, and for as long as I have to until we figure something else out. Being part of the team is important to me. I don’t want to put anyone else or myself in danger.”

Bucky had set the pizzas down on the table and came over to sit on the arm of the couch, his hand reaching over to play at the back of Clint’s neck. Before, that would have sent Clint spinning off in his head, unable to focus on anything but Bucky. Now, he easily ignored it and immediately continued, “I appreciate the concern, but I really am okay. Other than not being able to blame all of this on a magical arrow anymore.”

They seemed pacified, the worry lines on their faces disappearing.

“Bucky’s still affected just as much,” Natasha pointed out. “Are you worried about that?”

“No. Not at all,” Clint answered truthfully.

“I want you to tell us if that changes,” Bruce said. “Either of you.”

“We will.”

Bucky asked, “Do you guys wanna stay for pizza, or…?”

“No, we’ll get going,” Bruce replied with a glance at Natasha. With a pointed glare at them both, he said, “Take it easy, okay?”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

*

They ate pizza, then lounged and watched an old film noir movie. Clint reached his breaking point before it was over, his hand pushed down inside his pants to stroke himself, his head nestled in Bucky’s lap, face turned towards Bucky’s body to nuzzle against it as he groaned.

After pausing the movie, it was easy enough for Bucky to manhandle him into bed and strip him bare. Climbing on top of Clint to kiss him, Bucky was content to just go from there, to keep it sweet and easy, but when he reached for the plug’s base, Clint grabbed him by the jaw and begged, “No, please. The cuffs…”

“You sure?”

“Please?”

“Why?”

“I like feeling like I’m yours. And I don’t want to hide from this anymore. I trust you to control this. I… I _want_ you to control this. So I don’t have to.”

“Mm.” He nipped at Clint’s lip, caressed his chest, “Then okay.”

He got him back in the cuffs and crouched between his spread thighs as he slowly drew the thick toy out of him, avidly watching every tremble and gasp.

Rubbing over Clint’s hole as it clenched back up, empty, Bucky waited. Only once he started to squirm and plead for more did he push the plug back in, fucking him with it. He was beautiful as he writhed and pushed into the thrusts, still trying to hide his face, his wild pleasure, and completely natural desperation. Drinking it all in, Bucky held off as long as he could, but when Clint sobbed, “James, please, I need you,” he tossed the toy aside, climbed onto him, lined up and pushed easily inside with a moan.

He was home.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter will be posted Monday! Thank you as always for reading <3


	8. Chapter 8

To the surprise of absolutely no one, Steve got it out of Tony first. It must have lingered in his expression, causing tension that wasn’t explainable as anything other than a secret.

“This has something to do with Strange, doesn’t it? Is it about the parasite? Are you worried about us?”

“I’m not worried,” Tony said, too defensively as Steve cornered him in his workshop while he was upgrading Peter’s suit. If Tony couldn’t be there as his backup, he planned to make sure there were some added features designed to get the kid out of danger, fast, should anything go sideways. Parts were scattered on the table, schematics floating in mid-air as Tony moved pieces around and ran simulations. “I wouldn’t risk anyone else with that thing. Your powers have, well, a power to them that’s similar enough to what it eats that I’d never let you get close to the damn thing. Any of you. It works for Clint, and that’s great.”

“Tony,” Steve beckoned, leaning back against the table at his side, facing him. “Talk to me.”

“Pretty sure I’ve been saying all this out loud, right?”

“You’re freaking out.”

“Am not.”

Steve raised an eyebrow of judgment at his immaturity. Fine, let him. “Are you worried about the three of us being together tonight? I know it’ll be the first time and it’s a big deal.”

“I’m not worried about that. I trust you. I’ve seen enough, on video and otherwise, to get it. It’s distracting as hell, though, so don’t remind me.”

“Then what? What is this?”

“What’s what?”

“What did Strange tell you?”

Tony blew out a breath and turned his back, not trusting his expression to not give anything away.

Steve shut off the holo and turned off the ‘music’ playing so they were left with only silence and his muttered, “Can’t believe you can actually get anything done with that on.” As soon as the compilation track of Peter’s whimpers and soft begging noises was off, Tony missed it already.

“I like hearing him. It inspires me to find new ways to keep him alive a little longer.”

“Just tell me. Unless you think I’ll let this go anytime soon.”

“I’m not delusional, Rogers.”

“No. Just scared. Why?”

“He doesn’t… he isn’t certain. It’s still theoretical. There’s a phenomenon he’s witnessed while tracking Eros in other realms, around people he’s… hit.”

“With the arrows,” Steve clarified.

“He’s the god of primal desire. When he wants to, he can affect anyone, not just the people linked to him. But if they are linked to him…”

“What did he see? How bad?”

“Just… chaos. People overwhelmed with lust for anyone nearby. It’s not picky or focused, like the rest of the time. But people who have been struck by the arrows sometimes act like his soldiers. He can direct them. They obey his orders.”

“Makes sense,” was Steve’s quiet reply. “Especially if he’s trying to even the playing field with Ares. And the chaos probably disrupts any attempts Ares makes to organize warfare.”

“Make love not war has never been so creepy.” Tony sighed. “But it only happens when he’s nearby and upset. It’s intentional. He wasn’t doing it the last time he attacked. Maybe it’s not his go-to tactic. So it’s more reason to not piss the guy off. He hasn’t cared about us. He thinks he won here. Right now, we’re fine as is. But it’s just good to be aware of.”

“I guess I’d rather be driven to kiss people than kill them,” Steve said introspectively.

Tony shot him a look.

“We should tell the others.”

Tony sighed again.

“They have a right to know.”

“It might not ever happen and they’d be worrying for nothing.”

“Still.”

“I know,” he surrendered.

They recorded a message with the basic details, as a precaution, and sent it to the team. Tony knew it was easier to do it that way than to have the face-to-face, mind-controlled-orgies-are-possible-now talk. The plan was that if Eros did show up looking displeased, Stephen or Wong would send him through a portal someplace far away and difficult for even a god to escape from.

That they knew of such places wasn’t something Tony liked to think about really.

Peter showed up shortly after the message went out, looking especially pale and wide-eyed. Also, not-so-curiously without much to say. He just stared at them with a hand over his mouth and his ears pink as he fought a blush.

“It’ll be fine. Worst thing that happens is we all get laid.”

“Tony,” Steve scolded.

“Not that there’s a shortage of that around here these days.”

“I guess we all stay away from Hulk then, huh?” Peter murmured.

“Or run towards him,” Tony mumbled back.

“Tony!”

“What? If you claim you’re not curious, you’re lying. Besides, it’s not the stupidest problem we’ve faced, but it sure is close.” He studied Peter. “You okay, kiddo?”

“I keep picturing it,” Peter confessed.

“Yeah, pro tip, try not to do that. Remember, these are hypotheticals. Besides, worrying is just suffering twice.”

“Did you just quote Newt Scamander?” Peter grinned.

“Absolutely not. Who’s hungry? What’re we feeling? Probably not Greek. Thai? Indian? Ooh, there’s a new Ethiopian place that just opened.”

Peter came over and folded him into the best hug ever, murmuring against his shoulder, “You’re a Ravenclaw, aren’t you?”

“I admit nothing, young Hufflepuff.”

*

When Tony got to the bedroom, Peter and Steve were already inside. Peter wore a loose t-shirt and boxers. Steve was in a pair of jeans. Hanging back, Tony just watched them together for a long moment.

“Come down off the wall,” Steve coaxed.

“Yeah, no.” Peter was attached to the far wall of the bedroom by the soles of his feet, legs bent and spread around Steve’s body wedged between them as he stood with his hands resting on Peter’s knees. Peter had one hand gripping the wall at his side, the other playing with the short, soft hair at Steve’s temple.

“Is it a trust thing?”

“No, I trust. But things happen when the three of us… You know. And what if I bite someone, or yell too much, or someone gets upset?”

“Then we’ll figure it out. Come on.”

Peter released the other hand, winding both around Steve’s neck as he opened for a kiss.

“Mm, progress,” Steve hummed, nipping Peter’s bottom lip. “Now the legs.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“You sure about that?” Steve’s mouth shifted over by Peter’s ear, his hand fondling between Peter’s spread legs. With a sudden cry, Peter twitched, trembled, and fell off the wall into Steve’s awaiting arms. They started kissing again, and Tony saw Steve’s tongue push into Peter’s mouth as Peter frowned and moaned. Steve palmed Peter’s ass, squeezing.

As Tony stepped further into the room, Steve broke the kiss to ask, “So, Pete, you ready to be the meat in this man sandwich?”

“Oh my god,” Peter groaned, hiding his face against Steve’s shoulder. “How many times do I have to tell you, you can’t just say stuff like that out loud.”

“The Brooklyn in him comes out strongest when he’s horny,” Tony commented. “You gonna share some of that, or…” He nodded to Peter, crowded in by Steve’s body against the wall.

Sliding to the ground, Peter locked eyes on Tony and came for him, snatching Steve’s wrist on the way to drag him along.

Stepping into Tony’s space, Peter ran a hand down his chest, then played with the hem of his t-shirt. He gave Tony a shy smile and a, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself. You ready for this?”

Peter gave a weak laugh.

Hooking a hand around behind Peter’s neck, Tony pulled him in for a kiss. Peter’s lips felt hot and a little swollen already from being used by Steve, and Tony moaned to imagine the state he’d be in once they were both done with him.

Impatient, Peter broke the kiss for a moment to pull Tony’s shirt off, so Tony repaid the favor while Steve moved around behind to open Tony’s jeans. Steve reached a greedy hand deep inside the front of them to fondle him, his teeth scratching over the side of Tony’s neck before a hot tease of tongue and the drag of soft lips made Tony shiver. Steve rasped, “Tony, sit on the bed, up by the headboard.”

Grabbing Tony’s ass and stroking through his chest hair, Peter said between kisses, “Captain Rogers is being kinda bossy today, Mr. Stark.”

“Bossy?” Tony blinked. “Kid, he strategizes this shit like it’s battle. Usually his tactics are fairly straightforward, like shock and awe, but now that there are two of us to attack at once, he’ll get into more creative engagements. I’m planning on there being plenty of counter-offensives, a few sieges. This, right now? Flanking maneuver. Also, what’s with the titles?”

“I’m taking back my power. He just called me the meat.”

Steve snorted. He had already managed to silently untangle the pair of them and strip Tony of the jeans. Now he manhandled Tony onto the bed when he didn’t go on his own quickly enough.

“And the stuck to the wall bit?” Tony asked as Steve diligently positioned him on the pillows. Knowing that look in his eye, Tony added, “No, you’re not tying me up. I plan to participate in this. With my hands. And other things.”

Enjoying the view, Peter smiled, “I like when he has to convince me of things.”

“I can be very persuasive,” Steve agreed.

“Oh, _I know_,” Tony replied heavily.

To Peter, Steve said, “Take those off if you plan to keep ‘em.”

Peter waved a hand at him, looking adorably peeved. “He keeps tearing off my underwear! I only have, like, three pairs left!”

“FRIDAY, order more underwear in Peter’s size for delivery. In a variety of colors and styles.”

“Yes, Sir,” FRIDAY replied.

“Why would you do that?” Steve complained. “He doesn’t need ‘em. He barely wears clothes as it is.”

Peter gaped at him. “Rude. Time to start tearing off _your _underwear.”

“I’m fine with that plan,” Tony commented.

Once Peter was naked, Steve reached for and grabbed his forearm, guiding him up onto the bed with the pair of them and coaxing him to move so he was in front of Steve. Peter crawled up Tony’s body, straddling his thighs. His lip caught nervously between his teeth, he caressed Tony everywhere he could reach until Steve pulled him sharply upright.

Peter leaned back against Steve’s body, his chest heaving as his breathing quickened, eyes half-lidded and locked on Tony. Out of Peter’s line of sight, Steve pumped the top of the lube bottle and quickly spread the fluid on his hands before reaching to wrap his entire hand around Peter’s stiffened cock. Giving it a slow tug, tight enough to tilt Peter’s hips forward, the first aching cry was startled from him. With his other hand, Steve reached behind Peter, between their bodies. Whatever he did caused Peter to grab frantically at Steve’s arm and reach back over his shoulder to take a handful of Steve’s hair with the other. Steve’s lips hovered by Peter’s ear, watching Tony as he told Peter, “I wanna watch you suck his cock while I finger you open. Hands flat on the bed. You only touch him with your mouth.”

Steve’s hands both moved—pulling Peter’s cock and pushing farther up into his ass. Peter cried out and shuddered. Clear fluid beaded on the reddened tip of his cock, then slid to drip down the underside. He jolted slightly in little pushes, probably from whatever part of his hand Steve was still thrusting into Peter’s ass. Fighting for breath, Peter gasped, “What maneuver is that?”

“Penetration,” Steve told him.

“Oh, come on.”

“Direct attack through the front lines, then an attack on the rear once through.”

Unsurprised, Tony said, “And I bet you thought I was kidding.”

“Suck him,” Steve commanded with a twist of his hand over the end of Peter’s cock that made him whimper, lower lip quivering.

Releasing Peter’s dick, he pressed Peter forward, holding him by the back of the neck while Tony assisted by guiding himself to Peter’s mouth. The pre-come-wet head dragged over his parted lips as he writhed, tensing with a sharper gasp.

Steve warned, “Do not come.”

But Peter seemed right on the edge, so Steve gripped the base of Peter’s cock to prevent his orgasm. Opening wide, then closing his lips around Tony, just behind the head, Peter sucked and hummed, frowning.

He remained tense, hips twitching, fighting against Steve’s hold on them, but his mouth was soft, plaint, and eager. Tony had a nice view of Steve getting more lube, then pressing three fingertips through Peter’s hole. They went in and held there. Peter gave a muffled yell. Tony caressed through his brown, wavy hair to help soothe him. After brief eye contact, Peter sank down to take more of Tony into his mouth, wet lips sliding over the shaft, hot tongue wrapped tight. At the same time, Steve steadily fed the rest of his three fingers into Peter. Tony’s cockhead was just shy of the back of Peter’s throat when he gave a heavy moan and started to move. Rocking forward, Peter took Tony in even farther, his cock lodging in Peter’s throat for a moment, making Tony moan thunderously before he pulled back. The fingers inside Peter had withdrawn slightly but when he rocked back onto them, they once more filled him up.

He kept going this way, taking them hungrily at both ends, his soft moans shifting to whimpers as Tony fought back his climax. Steve’s hand on Peter’s back and Tony’s hands on his head guided his pace.

They kept it steady and easy, but Peter started to fight them, trying to go harder and unable to because of Steve’s hold on him.

His whimpers sharpened, gaining volume until he pulled off of Tony, panting, lips and chin dripping with saliva to beg, “Please, I have to… I can’t…” His breathing cut off and his eyes rolled.

Tony finally could see what was happening as Peter straightened up onto his arms—how tightly Steve was gripping the base of Peter’s dick, now swollen nearly purple and soaked with pre-come.

“Steve,” Tony started.

“Stroke him,” Steve said darkly with a glance down at Tony.

Sweat damp, writhing restlessly, cries blooming quickly into full-throated yells, Peter didn’t give any sign he heard them. When Tony reached for Peter’s cock and lightly stroked it, Peter screamed.

Steve held out for three light pulls of Tony’s fist before he let go of the base of Peter’s cock, arm raised across Peter’s front to pull him upright and hold him there. Grabbing it like he needed it to live, Peter drew the arm up to his mouth and bit down on the muscle of Steve’s forearm as he kept screaming. Tony jacked him fast and tight, thick jets of hot come coating Tony’s hand and painting the front of Tony’s body.

Steve hissed, fist clenched, but Tony could see his other hand working, pivoted now like he was aiming for Peter’s prostate, probably for some payback.

Tony let go first, caressing Peter’s tensed, quaking thighs. “You okay?” he asked Steve, who was still wincing.

“Fine.”

Peter’s jaw unclenched. Collapsing back against Steve, he fell quiet, save for the occasional whimper and lots of panting. Dragging Steve’s arm up to his mouth again, he sucked and licked at the mark he’d made on it.

“You do not ever bite Tony like that, you hear me?”

“Mm-hmm,” Peter hummed.

Steve’s hand withdrew from Peter’s ass as he moved to grip himself instead, his breathing erratic, mouth pressed to the back of Peter’s head. When Peter kept tonguing the wound, Steve cursed, yanked open his jeans and pushed a hand inside to stroke himself. He came with a strangled gasp.

“Well, guess you didn’t hate it,” Tony decided. Steve gave him a fiery look.

“You wanna let Tony fuck you first?”

“Yes, please.”

Tony got goosebumps all over, the urge to believe he was hallucinating all of this nearly too strong to deny.

Steve guided Peter to bend over and crawl forward, used the come on his hand to stroke up Tony’s cock, spreading the warm, thick fluid over him. With a rough moan, Tony felt Steve guide his dick to Peter’s hole and press it through. Peter took over from there, mewling softly as he started to bounce on him. Tony took over next, thrusting up hard and deep into him, gripping him by the hips. Peter’s lips were red with blood, both beneath and above the skin. Tony was so mesmerized by the sight of it, he didn’t see it coming when two of Steve’s fingers suddenly fed up Tony’s ass to milk his gland while they fucked.

With a startled yell of his own, Tony bucked, slamming up into Peter who rolled his hips down into the thrust, taking it with ease and a little sigh.

Steve didn’t ease up but rubbed hard at Tony’s gland until he saw stars, voice breaking apart as he came with a convulsion into Peter.

Losing track of things for a moment, Tony came around to discover Peter still above him, now straddling him. Peter was tightly gripping the headboard with both arms, jaw clenched, and back arched. Steve was lined up to enter him and Peter was shaking.

“Hey, breathe,” Steve soothed, leaning forward to kiss Peter’s neck. “I don’t have to if you don’t—”

“You have to,” Peter growled.

“Okay.” He caressed over Peter’s chest and stomach, soothing. He looked down at Tony, using some telepathy to ask for assistance.

“It’s okay, Pete,” Tony told him gently. “I don’t scare off easy. I trust you. And Steve.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

He took a trembling inhale, blew the air back out, and calmed fractionally. His voice broke as he begged, “Steve…”

“I know. You ready?”

He nodded.

Steve straightened, spread Peter’s ass with both hands, bared his clenched teeth and forced half his length inside on the first push. The scream rang in Tony’s ears as every single muscle in Peter’s body tensed on impact, which made Steve let out a wild yell of his own. The metal headboard groaned under the grip of Peter’s hands. Tony’s heart pounded. A few tears slipped down Peter’s oddly peaceful face, landing on Tony’s neck.

Keeping Peter spread with one hand, gripping his hip with the other, Steve pulled him back, slow and steadily, onto the rest of him. Peter gasped then sobbed, lip trembling, cock straining.

“Relax!” Steve growled.

“Can’t…”

Tony brushed the pads of his thumbs over Peter’s face, clearing away tears. “Hey, kiddo? Love you.”

Peter laughed, sniffled. “Love you too.”

“You want this?”

“Yeah,” Peter said on a sob.

“Good. Then show me you do.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, challenge accepted.”

Tony brushed more tears away. Peter’s expression cleared as his conviction grew. Steve started to move.

The pace started normally, with nearly the amount of force Steve tended to use with Tony. Hips slapping loudly against the curve of Peter’s firm ass, Steve let out a desperate moan. Tony could practically feel the lust magic crackling in the air around them. Steve seemed drunk on it, his blue eyes losing all focus. A glance up at Peter showed much of the same. He’d bitten down on his swollen lower lip, teeth bared, brow furrowed, the intimate hurt of what was being done to his body painted all over him from the pleading twist in his cries to the violent tremors in his body.

And then Peter moaned, “Harder. Please.”

He arched a little more, shifted his legs a little wider. Steve moved both hands to brace Peter’s hips and then did exactly as asked.

If Steve tended to fuck Tony like he was furious, he fucked Peter like he was actually trying to kill him. It was both harder and faster than what was normally humanly possible. Mouth fallen open wide, arms straining as the headboard groaned even louder, Peter screamed until his breath ran out. Not breathing, face red, body seizing up, he came untouched all over Tony.

Pounding brutally at Peter, Steve let out a sob of his own, tears streaming down his face now too. Soon, his hips stuttered, cock slammed in to the root, and Steve gave a desperate gasp. He half-collapsed onto Peter, who held them both up. Steve pleaded wordlessly with the teenager wrapped in his arms as he came inside him, convulsing in waves.

Peter let go of the headboard with his right hand, found Steve’s and wove their fingers together while they both tried, somehow, to recover and catch their breath. Tony caressed the side of Peter’s tranquil face, stretching up to kiss him lightly. Then he caressed Steve’s jaw. Nuzzling the touch, Steve moaned, silent tears streaming down his face from reddened eyes, pulling Peter even more tightly against him. His breath caught as he failed to get it together. Some internal, emotional dam had burst wide open in him.

“Hey, lay down with me, okay?” Peter whispered to Steve.

Withdrawing, driving a low grunt and shiver from Peter, Steve moved to lay on his side, hands covering his face as it still all rushed out of him. Peter lay on his side, facing Steve, who scooped him up in a tight embrace that reached outward to draw Tony in as well. His grip stayed locked onto Tony’s upper arm tight enough to bruise as Tony brushed the hair back from Steve’s forehead and Peter kissed him quiet.

So softly, Steve hiccuped a little as he whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Peter whispered back. “It’s okay. You’re safe with us. You don’t have to worry anymore. Promise.”

And then Tony was crying too, letting out an annoyed sigh at his own sentimentality.

*

It was dark. Quiet.

Tony’d crept out of bed to take a leak and wash off a little.

When he returned, Steve’s eyes were open, watching as Tony slid back under the sheet.

“Be honest. Are you angry?” Steve asked.

“What? No. Of course not.”

“You’re sure?”

Tony propped up on an arm to see him better over Peter, who was gathered protectively against Steve’s chest and completely unbothered in his restful slumber by any of the talking.

“Yes. Both of you deserve to have more people love you. I can see everything he does to you, and vice versa, emotionally or otherwise. And the sex? Yeah, kind of terrifying but everything seemed thoroughly enjoyed by all parties. Mission successful. Though we do have to disinfect that bite. The number of germs in a human bite might even be too much for your healing abilities to combat. Plus, he could have just given you spider powers for all we know.”

“Pretty sure I’d have them by now if that was the case.”

Tony breathed out a laugh. “True.”

“Tony?”

“Yeah?”

He hesitated a long while.

And then made a small sound like he was upset again.

“Hey,” Tony frowned, trying to shift higher to get a better look at him in the dim light.

Steve shook his head, eyes closed, his frown heavy.

“What is it? Just tell me.”

“I thank god for Eros,” Steve finally managed, misery raw and thick in his voice. “Maybe that makes me a horrible person, but if not for him, we never would have…” He shook his head, groaned and pushed down on the emotion until he sounded more in control. “I can’t imagine not having you two, is all, I guess. And it happened by accident. A fluke. But I know how much pain Peter’s gone through because of Eros, not to mention everyone else, but… I wouldn’t take it back. I wouldn’t undo this. Ever. For anything.” He waited a moment. “Now are you angry?”

“No, I’m not angry,” Tony said, adding with reluctance. “I know what you mean. Maybe… the kid would have been better off without us. Maybe not. Maybe Clint would have been better off without Bucky. Maybe not. Maybe you and I never would have found our way to each other. The hypotheticals don’t matter. Not now. We’re in this. All of us. For good.”

“It’s not just Eros that complicates things,” Steve warned. “Peter hasn’t told his aunt about any of this yet. And if the press finds out the three of us—”

“I know. It’d be bad for everyone, on every level. And if Eros comes back…”

“Like we told the team, we’ll plan for all variables. We’ll be ready. And in the meantime?”

“Make every moment count. It’s what we do.” Tony reached out and took Steve’s hand, their linked fingers resting lightly on Peter’s side. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re a hell of a man, Steve Rogers.”

Steve breathed out a laugh that sounded both hopeful and determined. And that’s when Tony knew.

They could do this. They were ready.

“Love you too, Tony.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The goal for this branch of the story was to capture the guys' struggle to incorporate something like a lust spell into their lives (emotionally, psychologically, practically...). I hope you feel it was successful and a fun ride. My apologies for the cliffhanger-esque ending, but I wanted to leave them as content and prepared for battle as I could, since that's how I enjoy them most. As with all of my stories, I left threads there to pick up and continue to weave the tapestry of their tale if inspiration strikes. I appreciate all comments and kudos! Thank you all so much for reading <3


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